


a symphony of love in several movements.

by theweakestthing



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: (the tag that follows wherever Theo Decker goes), Anxiety, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, These boys love to drink, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing
Summary: It reminded him of the version of Musée Rodin’s The Kiss that sat in the Tate’s collection, pockmarked and scarred from sitting in a parlour among soldiers during the war, but still standing as a testament to the carnal desires of two lovers. Twisted around each other, hands on the bed between them, their positions almost exactly mirrored that of the sculpture. The thought that together they could be a work of art pushed Theo forward.Alternatively titled: Theo Decker needs to get his shit together.
Relationships: Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky
Comments: 39
Kudos: 171





	1. Midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This is my first goldfinch fic, I've only read the book and I've not seen the movie so that's what this is based off of, though their appearances are based on the many images I've seen from the movie. 
> 
> kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated, please enjoy the sweet yearning~

“ **Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.** ”― _Edna St. Vincent Millay._

* * *

Theo slipped his fingers into the night, soft midnight curls wrapped around them and suddenly it wasn’t winter anymore and he wasn’t in New York. The air around him changed. It was dry in his throat and the heat prickled around him. He felt drunk, he felt high, wasted out of his mind on any of the number of things he could get his hands on despite the fact that he was only drunk. It was always easier to do these things in the dark.

His other hand was pressed flat against Boris’ back. He had placed it there because he was too scared to touch the other man where he really wanted to; he’d never had the confidence to do much of anything that he wanted to. Slowly, he slid his hand up to Boris’ shoulder and curled his hand around it. He rubbed his thumb against the scar he knew would be there. It was proof of something that he would never be able to voice, at least not at that moment, especially with Boris’ tongue licking into his mouth.

It was another chance meeting that had the unmistakable stink of contrivance about it, but Theo overlooked it, as he had done with most things surrounding Boris.

The flight back from Chicago had been a hectic mess. It was close to Christmas and that meant that the airport was swarming with people eager to get somewhere for the holidays. The pill he had taken was wearing off and his head was starting to swim. Usually an airport around Christmas was the last place Theo would want to be, but there was no way that he could have delayed the trip. An old client of Welty’s was moving out of the country and had called the shop on a whim, she wouldn’t be able to take everything with her and since they were downsizing the extra money would help. Hobie had asked him to go in that easy going and gentle way. Theo wasn’t in any position to say no.

“Potter,” a familiar thick voice called from behind him, he turned to find Boris waving at him as he rushed through the crowd.

It had been almost two years of complete and total radio silence between them. They had each other’s numbers, Theo knew he could reach out, Boris could have too, it just never happened. It hadn’t happened in all those years that separated Vegas from the night that Boris had returned either.

Boris turning up out of the blue, dressed completely in black from head to toe, did not surprise Theo in the slightest. It probably should have. He probably should have resigned himself to the fact that he would never see Boris again. Especially after the empty and strange days they spent in the apartment in Antwerp. But he’d never really given up the idea of seeing Boris, maybe, in a crowd somewhere before they had met again as adults, he would probably be homeless or spotted buying drugs from a dealer that Theo recognised or simply turning up to invade Theo’s life again.

Pulled into a tight embrace, Boris wrapped his arms around Theo. His bags slapped against Theo’s back and forced a grunt out of him. All Theo could think of was how soft Boris’ hair felt against his throat.

“Funny coincidence, eh?” Boris said, chuckling as he stepped back, shining his white teeth up at Theo.

“Didn’t know you knew what that word meant,” Theo replied, saying what he meant without actually saying it, which was mostly that Boris was full of shit.

“I pick up words here and there, am not bluntest tool in the box,” Boris returned, still smiling as he butchered the saying, Theo entertained the idea that he was doing it just to annoy him for a few seconds before Boris continued. “You are taking cab back to New York no?” He asked, sidestepping the question, “I’ll come with you.”

Without waiting for Theo’s reply, not that one was forthcoming, Boris manhandled him into the back of a cab. At least their bags would be between them, Theo thought. Even with barriers between them, there was something about being around Boris that made the world shrink, it shrank until there was nothing in the whole world beside the two of them and all other thoughts escaped from view.

There was something about Boris, about being around Boris that set off alarms in Theo’s head. Not that he ever listened to them. Even if he knew it was a bad idea, which it probably was if Boris was involved, Theo wouldn’t pull away. He’d never been able to say no to Boris. Despite the hindsight and maturity that Theo was supposed to have gained in the years between them. He had never denied Boris when they were kids, he hadn’t put up much of a fight when he had returned and he knew he wouldn’t now.

Boris sat back while Theo gave the driver his address, as though it went without saying that he was going wherever Theo was.

“How was your trip?” Boris asked, as though there weren’t years between them, as though they had planned to meet at the airport and were just catching up like normal.

“Dull,” Theo replied, “tiring.” He ran a hand over his face, fingers slipping up under his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Did not get what you wanted?” Boris said, brows tipping up as though the answer genuinely concerned him. Maybe it did, Theo didn’t know and couldn’t know, but it sure felt like it.

“No, I-,” Theo sighed, “I just hate travelling around the holidays,” he said, deflating.

Boris stared at him knowingly and Theo swallowed, Boris knew why these things bothered him and there was a strained kind of intimacy in that.

“But you got your antiques though,” Boris said, head tipped slightly toward Theo.

“Yeah,” Theo said, watching Boris as the street lights strobed through the window, “I did.”

“Then all is good, yes?” Boris said, reaching over their bags to punch Theo lightly in the shoulder.

Theo thought about it. He wasn’t waiting in the crowd for a taxi as other people jumped in front of him, he wasn’t on the cramped plane anymore trying to sleep through his fear and he wasn’t showing his teeth as he smiled at a woman who was moving to Europe to live happily with her doting husband. Instead he was sat in the back of a taxi cab with maybe the only person who understood him.

“I guess it is,” he finally replied and the smile that spread across Boris’ face swept all of Theo’s worries away.

Time compressed and it seemed like no time at all before they were pulling up outside Theo’s apartment building. He looked around disorientated as Boris paid for the ride. As he stumbled out of the taxi, Boris caught him by the elbow. The touch only lasted for a moment, a few seconds at most, but Theo felt it like he’d been branded. Burned straight down to the bone.

Boris stayed close by his side as Theo moved through the lobby and stopped in front of the elevators.

“Living on your own?” Boris said, as they waited for the elevator to arrive, “real bachelor now.”

“Yeah, I thought it was about time that I lived on my own,” Theo said, but he knew that Boris could see straight through him, he knew that Boris knew that he was lying.

“Good for you,” Boris said.

The guilt had proved too much, there was too much guilt to feel and Theo couldn’t live like that, not that what he was doing could really be considered living. There were other things too. He couldn’t stand the pitying looks that Hobie sent him over the dinner table since the engagement had been called off, since everything with Pippa. Theo didn’t know how to feel about it.

What he felt was fear and nothingness and then fear again. The fear mostly came at night. It crept over him like mist and pulled memories over his eyes. Trauma played in the night theatre behind his eyelids. Recently there had been a few new reels added to the terrors that woke him with a start, pulse racing and skin damp against the sheets. He was still reliving the worst day of his life every other night. He dreamt of the plume of dust, smoke and ash that came and stole his mother from him, and left him with a ringing in his ears. There was also that day spent with nothing but terror as he waited for her to come through the door, always waiting even though he knew she would never come. And now he dreamt of the feeling of cold metal against his palm, and how it jumped wildly in his hand, washed cold in the dread that Boris could be dead or dying or about to be. He dreamt about waking up in the hotel room in Amsterdam, waiting for Boris with the same fear rattling his bones and wringing him dry. By the morning, Theo welcomed the nothingness.

He wasn’t about to tell Boris any of that, so he shrug and looked back toward the elevator doors. Thankfully it was then that they heard the telltale grating sound of the elevator arriving. They stepped in without a word and Theo pressed the button for his floor, he adjusted the strap of his bag upon his shoulder before he worked up the nerve to look at Boris again.

“What brings you to New York?” Theo asked, half watching their fuzzy reflections in the elevator doors. “You got anymore life changing secrets to tell me?” He added, trying to make a joke, but there was something beneath it that Theo tried not to bring up and he wished he hadn’t said it when he looked at Boris and saw the mischief clear in his dark eyes.

“No secrets just business,” Boris said, gesturing vaguely with his hand.

“Right,” Theo said, clipped, and nodded his head.

“How have you been?” Boris asked. “Breaking hearts and selling old furniture to fat cats,” he added, laughing as he bumped his shoulder against Theo’s.

Theo laughed back. The latter was true, the former was way out of Theo’s orbit, which he was sure Boris knew.

“I’ve been fine,” Theo lied straight through his teeth, “the engagement was called off,” he went on, although he suspected that Boris already knew or suspected as much, and Boris gave a sympathetic nod. Theo suddenly lost the desire to tell Boris any more about the things that had been going on in his life. He could have easily told him about buying back as much of Hobie’s changelings as he could, he could have told Boris about Pippa’s letter and how just the thought of it churned up his insides, he could have talked about moving out and how hard it was to find a place in the city, but Theo felt as though the more he talked the more Boris would see through him and the father away from any subject that pertained to Boris they would be. “Work’s fine, moving was a headache,” he muttered as he watched the seam between the elevator doors hoping they’d open soon.

Boris nodded again.

“You?” Theo asked. He didn’t expect a real answer, especially since he hadn’t exactly given a real answer himself, but he expected Boris’ to be less honest.

“Life is good, you know me, always happy,” Boris said, smiling again at Theo.

Despite everything that had happened between them, Theo did feel like he knew Boris and that was how he knew the other was full of shit. After the kind of conversations they’d had in Boris’ apartment, there was no way that anything he’d just said was true. Those conversations had played over and over in his mind, most especially what Boris had said about The Idiot, how troubled he’d been over whether he was a good person or not.

“Good,” Theo nodded, mild smile upon his lips.

The elevator doors opened, saving Theo from having to make anymore stilted small talk. He led them through the corridor to his door. Almost nervously, he pulled his keys out and set to opening the door, he wondered at the state he’d left the apartment in. Remembering Boris’ apartment, Theo thought that it couldn’t be any worse than that.

Boris whistled as stepped into the hall. He took his long dark coat off and passed to Theo before stepping further into the apartment without invitation and without taking his shoes off, Theo had expected as much. Boris flicked the lights on as he moved through the apartment, lighting Theo’s way. Theo hung up Boris’ coat on the rack drilled into the wall and hung up his own along with his scarf. Leaving his shoes by the door, he walked into the living area and found Boris pawing at the stack of papers haphazardly left on the coffee table. Bags left against the side of the couch.

“No Popchyk?” Boris asked and looked around as though the dog would appear despite there being no sign of it up to that point.

“The building doesn’t allow pets,” Theo explained as he watched Boris, “Popper’s staying with Hobie, I figure the old dogs can look after each other,” he added with a shrug and Boris nodded, though Theo had the feeling that Boris was about the call his landlord a fascist pig or something similar. “You want a beer?” Theo asked, turned slightly toward the kitchenette as he loosened his tie.

“Would love beer,” Boris said, back to Theo as he plucked up a Christie’s listings and flicked through it.

Ideally Theo would have preferred to have taken a shower, call Hobie and go straight to bed. Instead there was a hurricane in waiting shifting around his apartment. Theo had a pretty good idea of what to expect from the night laid out before them, it would start with beer but he knew Boris would suggest that they go out and get blitzed. He’d wanted to have a quiet night, but Boris’ arrival wasn’t compatible with that.

He pulled two bottles out of the fridge, took the bottle opener from a draw and proceeded to open them. The caps clinked against the worktop. Theo left them where they fell and went over to the couch where Boris was sitting flicking through the channels on Theo’s modest TV. He dropped onto the couch beside Boris and passed the other a beer. Boris took it wordlessly and settled on some sort of housewives reality show, throwing the remote onto the coffee table where it clattered to a stop.

Theo watched Boris’ Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He took his jacket off and folded it over the arm of the couch, suddenly too hot even though snow was starting to fall outside through the window.

Questions hid behind Theo’s teeth, knocked on the back of them, begging to be asked. How did Boris know he was coming back from Chicago, which flight he was on, when he was landing? The biggest question, the one that weighed heaviest on his tongue, was why Boris was there? Why now?

If Boris had wanted to see him, if he was just in town on business, then he could have just called Theo to see what he was doing. They had each other’s contact details. At least Boris had Theo’s, who knew how many phones Boris might have gone through between that January in Belgium and then.

“How’d you know I was going to be at the airport?” Theo finally decided on one, hiding how truly interested he was behind his own bottle as he took a swig.

“Your old man,” Boris stated simply, sighing as he took another gulp of his beer. Theo stared back shocked, why would Hobie have told Boris what he was doing? “I told him it was surprise, Christmas surprise for my best friend, my only brother,” he added smiling as he held his arms open, as though he had just performed a magic trick and was about to say ‘tah-da’. Theo figured that Boris must have called the shop while Theo was out and had talked Hobie into telling Boris what he was up to.

Theo didn’t particularly enjoy Boris’ brand of Christmas surprises. He still remembered the last one clearly.

“We should go out, paint town,” Boris announced and took another large gulp of his drink, there was only a third left when he pulled the lip away from his mouth.

“Or we could get take out,” Theo returned, arms braced across his knees as he stared back at Boris.

“Good company, good drink, good food,” Boris said, continuing as though Theo hadn’t spoken. He turned toward Theo, their knees barely an inch apart, just almost touching like so many interactions between them. “Life is short Potter, you know, too short to pass opportunities to live,” he went on, smiling as he clapped a hand against Theo’s cheek.

Theo sighed and pushed the fingers of one hand under his glasses to rub at his eye. He flicked his eyes down to his watch, it was only just coming up to seven pm, and snow was falling like rain past Theo’s window. It was too early in the evening for this, it was too cold outside to be fumbling around wasted off of his face with the Euro-trash menace sitting on his couch.

“I’m tired Boris, I just got back from Illinois,” Theo said, weakly trying to dissuade Boris from the promise of a wild night, it was a losing battle but Theo was still going to go through the motions of it. He didn’t want to look like a pushover. “I just want to have a beer with my best friend, have some take out and go to bed,” he continued, watching Boris’ face as the other kept smiling back at him.

“Becoming old man before your time,” Boris said, shaking his head at Theo.

“I’ve got to get old at some point,” Theo muttered, not entirely convinced by his own statement.

“Now is not time,” Boris replied and finished of his drink, he set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

“We just sat down,” Theo said and he knew he’d lost, he’d lost whatever war he convinced himself he’d been fighting the moment he’d seen Boris at Newark airport, now it was just a matter of how quickly he lost and how dented his pride would be in the light of the morning.

“And now we stand up,” Boris said and jumped up onto his feet.

“Where are we going to go?” Theo asked, brows raised over the rim of his glasses as he stared up at Boris, he didn’t rise from the couch.

“I’ll call Myrium, she will know place,” Boris said and pulled a phone from the inside of his jacket, Theo noticed that it wasn’t the same one that Boris had the last time they’d met. He sipped at his beer as he watched Boris talk animatedly into the phone in a language he didn’t know.

Theo already knew that he was going to end up going wherever Boris wanted to take him, it was just a matter of the appearance of defeat, he wasn’t going to get up until he really had to. He didn’t want to Boris to think that he was weak. Though Boris probably knew exactly how easily Theo gave into him, since they usually ended up doing what Boris wanted to do anyway.

“We have place to go, so let’s go,” Boris said as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He looked down at Theo, smiling like everything was all set. The light in Boris’ eyes was sharp and glinted with the promise of mischief.

“Fine,” Theo sighed, he didn’t know whether he was pretending to be or was actually put out, “but you’re paying for dinner,” he added because he felt like he was in a position to make those sorts of demands, considering how Boris had sprung all this on him.

“Yes, of course,” Boris said, that sparkling white smile grew wider as he watched Theo unfold his jacket and slip it back on. He was springing on the balls of his feet. It was almost like Boris hadn’t expected Theo to say yes, to come out with him, as though there had really ever been any question about it. Perhaps there had been a little bit of doubt there, just some small speck that Boris had kept hidden.

Theo rose from the couch and fastened his tie. He raised a brow at Boris as he finished off the beer and set the bottle next to Boris’ on the table, tilted his head toward the hall and followed Boris out.

The cold was biting. Even under his scarf, coat, jacket and shirt, Theo felt the chill. He slipped his hands deep into his pockets and walked across the damp sidewalk beside Boris.

They got to the end of the street, turned the corner and Theo’s eyes fell upon the familiar black form of the car that had driven them around the last time they had been in New York. Theo was a little surprised by it. In a way, Theo supposed that he’d expected people to rotate out of Boris’ life, considering whatever business he was in wasn’t conducive to prolonged relationships or at least that was what he’d learned from all the gangster movies he’d seen. Not that he really knew whether Boris was a gangster, it was just his assumption.

He knew, even before Boris held the door open for him, that it would be Gyuri behind the wheel. Still the slight sting of surprise went through Theo when their eyes met in the rear view mirror.

“Theo, is good to see you again,” Gyuri announced and Theo got the sickest sense of déjà vu. He swallowed the taste of bile as he muttered a tepid greeting.

Something was up, something had to be up if it wasn’t just Boris that had come to New York, Theo could just feel it under his skin. His stomach churned as he shuffled along the backseat, making room for Boris. He knew there wasn’t anything, that there shouldn’t be anything, left for Boris to spring on him. He knew that and still the static paranoia was buzzing beneath his skin.

Boris pulled the car door closed and directed Gyuri to wherever it was they were going. Theo buckled his seat belt and noticed how Boris didn’t. Just another thing that jangled his nerves, almost all other thoughts flushed out of Theo’s mind.

It was nonsense. Theo didn’t know exactly why Boris had come to meet him at the airport, but he was certain that this time Boris’ business would not overlap with Theo’s life, unless it had to do with antiques and Theo sorely hoped not. He rubbed his face. If this really had anything to do with Theo then Boris would be more complimentary and less coy, he’d be plying Theo with the sweet words of someone that wanted to sell you something. Theo would know, he was a decent salesman himself, he did it all the time.

“Potter, you come back to Earth,” Boris said, hand gripped around Theo’s knee, he shook it lightly.

“It’s ‘Earth to Potter’,” Theo replied pedantically and shifted against the seat, the leather creaked beneath him. “Where are we going?” He asked. It was easier to ask questions than answer them and Theo really didn’t want to talk about what he’d been thinking.

“Will see when we get there,” Boris said, he patted Theo’s leg before removing his hand completely.

The place that Myrium had apparently suggested was a less of a dive than the last place they’d been, though it still seemed to fit Boris’ aesthetic even if there wasn’t a Slavic language in ear shot. The bar was dim and slightly grimy with character. Green seats and dark wood table tops, neon signs and signed photos of rock and movie stars hung on the walls. Theo supposed that you’d call the small crowd in the bar counter-culture. All he knew was that he didn’t much like the music that was playing.

Boris all but pushed him into a curved booth, which was definitely meant for more than two people, and left to get their drinks and order food. Theo tried not to watch him. He slid his eyes up to the TV hanging over the bar, Theo’s brows furrowed as Keanu Reeves held River Phoenix as the latter cried, he turned his eyes down the table top.

Before Theo could even realise he was having an existential crisis Boris returned with drinks and a tray of shots. Theo thought that he should have expected this, it was just how Boris was, but the sight of it made him balk. He didn’t want to get so wasted that Las Vegas crawled inside him and moved his hands and mouth without his permission. Didn’t want to spill his guts, betray his better senses, and not remember it.

“Fuck off,” Theo muttered, eyeing the five short glasses before him. 

“Come on Potter, drink up,” Boris said, pushing a shot glass into Theo’s hand, “is good for health.”

Theo rolled his eyes but he followed Boris and drank the shot obediently, sneering slightly as the vodka worked its way down his throat. He hoped that whatever food Boris had ordered would come soon, he didn’t want to get drunk on a empty stomach.

He noticed Boris’ hand creeping up the back of the booth seat, almost over his shoulder, but said nothing about it. Instead he took another shot and Boris laughed.

Chicken wings and fries and onion rings filled the space between their drinks, Theo ate greedily. He’d been starving since he had left the airport but Boris was one hell of a distraction. Boris had always been Theo’s biggest distraction. The noise in Theo’s mind was muffled by the alcohol and the continuous stream of words that came out of Boris’ mouth. Boris jumped from topic to topic exactly as he had when they were children, and Theo tried to follow but lost interest in Boris’ arguments quickly as he had when they were children.

They talked late into the night. They moved toward each other inch by inch, touching each other in familiar ways that could be passed off as nothing more than friendliness. It was a hand around the elbow, a palm against a cheek, knees touching as they leaned into each other, a hearty smack on the back, a quick press of their foreheads, the slide of their hands as they both reached for their drinks at the same time, leaning on each other in their drunken stupor. They were things that Theo could pretend was something else even as the thought of what it really was sent thrills and chills through him.

Stumbling out into the early morning, it wasn’t snowing anymore but that didn’t make the sidewalk any less dangerous. They fell into a cab. Theo didn’t think about why Boris hadn’t called Gyuri to come and pick them up. He told the driver his address and noted that this was the third time he’d been in the back of a car with Boris that day, though this was the first time that Boris had dared to do the things that Theo had worried that he might.

This time Boris’ hand stayed on Theo’s knee, it started to creep up his thigh as they continued to talk and laugh like nothing was happening. Theo ignored it. If anything he leaned into it, almost encouraging Boris with the way he turned toward the other.

They tumbled into the apartment. Theo took Boris’ coat from him, he still had the presence of mind to hang both his and Boris’ up before they got any further into the apartment. He began to toe his shoes off but Boris tugged him down the hall. Slightly rough fingers slid up the inside of Theo’s jacket, wrapped around his wrist, fingertips against his already racing pulse.

Theo staggered toward the kitchenette to pull another couple of beers out of the fridge. He fumbled with the bottle opener as Boris berated him, bumping into Theo’s side as he tried to give him advice, and eventually Theo got them open without Boris’ help.

Laughing and talking nonsense, they found their way to the couch, and Theo switched the TV on just for background noise. They were practically on top of each other on a couch with enough room for the two of them to sit comfortably separate.

“What are you doing here Boris?” Theo asked, smiling dopily as he leaned back against the couch, eyes heavy on Boris.

“I told you, business,” Boris said as he stared hazily back at Theo.

“No, I don’t care why you’re in New York,” Theo said, sitting up again and shaking his head, “I want to know why you’re here, in my apartment, with me,” he went on, asking what he’d been afraid to ask when he was sober, even though he knew he’d never get a straight answer.

“Can I not visit my best friend?” Boris asked, voice full of offense, as he smacked Theo on the shoulder.

“I don’t know, the last time you visited me you brought a whole lot of trouble with you,” Theo returned, smirking back at Boris.

“Trouble will always find you Potter,” Boris said, smiling wide, showing those American whites as though this was a good thing.

“You’re what finds me,” Theo said, letting slip the first words that crossed his mind.

“Calling me trouble?” Boris asked, forehead against Theo’s, his breath was alcohol and smoke mingled with the true taste of him, Theo couldn’t help but lean closer.

“You are trouble,” Theo replied. Boris was trouble, but he was Theo’s particular brand of trouble, and he felt powerless to it.

Loose lips sink ships and Theo was taking on water, slowly falling beneath the surface as Boris climbed into his lap. Theo slipped back against the couch, half draped upon it. Boris’ mouth crashed against his and Theo felt the waves break against him.

This was what Theo had expected to happen when they had been staying together in Boris’ apartment in Antwerp. Why it never had was beyond Theo, maybe it was because they both felt like they had just cheated death and expected the reaper to creep into the room and steal them in the night, but didn’t people usually cling to each other in moments like that? Theo had spent too much time thinking about why they hadn’t done this.

“Always running away,” Boris murmured against the shell of his ear. His voice was wet and hot as he moved between Theo’s legs.

Theo couldn’t deny it, wouldn’t deny it because that would be acknowledging it. He let the beer bottle still in his grasp fall to the floor. Now he was practically falling off of the couch with Boris almost completely on top of him, there was nowhere left for Theo to run.

Boris’ hands wound around the side of Theo’s face, bracketing him in, rough thumbs tucked under his chin. The kiss was deep and unhurried. Nothing like the desperate grappling of their youth, head swimming with the dizzying thrill and rushing to get away from the implications of what they were doing, straining to ignore what they were doing said about him. Theo was either too blitzed to care or he was tired of caring about it, it didn’t matter either way Theo wanted to take his time with Boris, just this once.

He wrapped his hand around the back of Boris’ knee and pressed the other against Boris’ back. They were wearing too many clothes. Boris’ fingers slid into Theo’s hair, his nails scraped against his scalp, he groaned into Boris’ mouth and bunched the back of the jacket in his closed fist.

Just as quickly as he’d jumped him, Boris was climbing off the couch. Theo felt cold all over and for a second he feared that some kind of rejection was coming. No rejection came though.

Instead Boris slipped his suit jacket off and dumped it on the couch before he pulled Theo up onto his feet. His fingernails dug into the flesh of Theo’s wrist. He dragged him through the apartment and into Theo’s bedroom, stopping along the way to press his mouth to any part of Theo’s skin he could reach.

Since he’d moved into the apartment, Theo hadn’t brought anyone over. Usually he went back to whichever woman’s place, they always had nicer sheets than he did, but he hadn’t really done much of that recently either. The thought drifted over his mind like mist and was swiftly pulled away by feeling of Boris’ tongue against the hollow of his collarbone. Boris would be the first person he slept with in his new apartment. Something felt right about that thought.

They broke apart and striped out of their clothes. Stood adjacent from each other around the corner of the bed, separated by only a meter of mattress, they watched each other undress. Theo’s mouth watered as Boris’ snow white skin was revealed from under the dark clothes. He was almost translucent in the low light, something ethereal that had come to visit Theo in the twilight.

Once they were naked, they sat on the bed, twisted awkwardly as they faced each other. Naked against the sheets of his bed, everything felt brand new and too familiar at the same time.

It reminded him of the version of Musée Rodin’s The Kiss that sat in the Tate’s collection, pockmarked and scarred from sitting in a parlour among soldiers during the war, but still standing as a testament to the carnal desires of two lovers. Twisted around each other, hands on the bed between them, their positions almost exactly mirrored that of the sculpture. The thought that together they could be a work of art pushed Theo forward.

Fingers curled around Boris’ side, he pulled Boris closer to him as he knelt on the bed, knees dipping into the mattress. Boris rose up against him and licked his way into Theo’s mouth.

It was like a fire constantly burning under his skin. When Boris wasn’t around it was like a single flame softly flickering, but when Boris was close by it roared to life and became a wildfire, turning his insides to ash whenever Boris touched him. Boris could barely keep his hands to himself when their clothes were on. Their clothes weren’t on and Boris was touching him, Theo felt aflame, he was almost surprised that the bed wasn’t on fire.

Boris tipped them backward and sent Theo sprawling across the mattress. Clambering atop him, Boris knocked the breath out of Theo, crashing their bodies together. Lip locked, Theo opened his mouth for Boris. Their hips slid together. The friction punched a groan out of Theo’s throat, a similar sound was huffed into his mouth from between Boris’ lips.

Theo slipped his hands into Boris’ hair, it felt like holding the night’s sky, watched it slide over his fingers. His thumb slid over the scar, the only evidence left of the best thing that Theo had ever done.


	2. Morning.

“ **The sad truth is that the truth is sad.** ” – _Lemony Snicket._

* * *

Theo’s alarm buzzed on the nightstand, red numbers blinking as he stared blearily at their fuzzy outlines. He smacked his hand down on top of the clock until the noise stopped. He groaned as he glared at it. Eventually he could make the time out, it was seven thirty and Theo needed to get up.

As he rose, Theo felt the discomfort from the night before and everything came crashing down upon him. He could feel Boris beside on the mattress, shifting as he woke. A hand under the sheets found his side and urged him back into bed.

“I’ve got to get up Boris,” Theo croaked, coughing into his fist as he twisted around to look down at Boris. He instantly regretted it.

Boris was laid against Theo’s off white sheets, showing just enough skin to leave Theo devastated. His eyes focused on the dark bruise on Boris’ shoulder, right next to the scar. He could feel Boris’ dark eyes watching him. Those fingers where still urging him down and Theo didn’t know what to do, Boris continued to watch him and Theo continued to avoid his eyes. It was too much.

“I’ve got to get ready for work,” Theo finally said, forcing the words out of his mouth.

His hand met Boris’ under the sheets. He had meant to remove it, to climb out of the bed and leave the room, but he didn’t.

“A little longer,” Boris murmured, his voice was low and gravelly. The sound of it turned Theo’s stomach over, setting a horde of butterflies free into its confines, he felt sick. Boris laced their fingers together.

Their eyes finally met and Theo needed to throw up.

He tore himself from Boris and clambered out of the bed, Boris didn’t say anything as Theo staggered into the bathroom and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. Curled over the bowl, Theo dropped the contents of his stomach into the water. It was almost nostalgic and Theo hated himself for it.

Boris would know, he’d know instantly and Theo was revolted at himself. The self hatred was nothing compared to whatever feelings he was igniting in Boris like echoes from the past. He remembered shutting Boris out, telling him to go home, avoiding him and being nothing but cruel to the only person who gave him comfort.

Legs came into the room, out of focus, though there was no one else it could be. Theo leaned back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared up at Boris, he couldn’t make out the other’s face, and he almost felt fourteen again. His glasses came into view.

Theo took them with muttered thanks and slid them up his face. He rose from the floor and flushed the toilet, and stared down into the clear water for a moment. He couldn’t bring himself to face Boris.

“Why not have shower together?” Boris asked, almost tentatively.

“It’s not exactly built for it,” Theo said, turning to the combined bathtub and shower unit, thankful for something to focus on that wasn’t Boris. “We’re a lot taller than we used to be,” he added, his stomach lurched again under the force of memories crashing down upon him.

“Looks fine to me,” Boris said, pulling the curtain back, crossing over in front of Theo as he did so. That was when Theo realised Boris was naked.

It washed over him in cloying waves, and he could feel Boris against him as though they were still in bed, still twisted around each other. He could feel Boris’ breath upon his skin. He could feel Boris inside him.

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“You can have the first one,” Theo called as he left the room, shutting the door behind him, knowing that Boris wouldn’t lock it.

Theo pulled on some clean clothes, he needed to be as dressed as possible, and he needed to build barriers between them. He dove into the living area. Unsure of what to do with himself, Theo simply stood in the middle of the room.

He heard the shower start and instantly relaxed. Theo flopped down onto the couch, arm draped over his face, shielding him from the awful way he’d acted. Still, unwanted thoughts pervaded throughout his mind.

On top the sickening zoetrope that was Theo’s PTSD flashbacks, the hyper vigilance, his discomfort in crowds, tinnitus and all the substance abuse that had probably rotted his brain never mind what it had done to his body, there was something else that was beginning to bother him more and more.

Boris was a rolling stone. Theo hadn’t exactly been surprised to see Boris again, but he also wouldn’t have been surprised if he never saw him again either. Their connection was tenuous at best. Theo wondered if they would always be like ships passing, never staying together long enough to really say the important things. But there was something worse to all that, something that bugged him long into the night, a thought that smacked him over the side of the head every now and then leaving him gasping for breath. He would have no way of knowing if Boris died. The thought had been rattling around in his brain like a bullet ricocheting off of the walls of his skull. 

There’s something that Theo has always wanted to say, but the thought of saying it where there could be a reply, where someone could hear him, made his skin crawl.

Theo was overcome with a feeling that wasn’t dissimilar to the one he’d had in that hotel room in Amsterdam, when he’d written all those rambling scrawled letter, his mind and body awash with fear and dread as he tried to make peace with himself. It meant that he was about to do something risky. He ripped a scrap of paper out from the Christie’s listings, plucked up the pen he used to circle the listings and wrote the words thrumming in his head down.

‘If we don’t talk again, I was always in love with you.’

He stared down at the words written in his familiar script. Theo couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about what he was doing, Boris could come out of the bathroom at any moment. He stared down at Boris’ open bag where it had been left beside the couch. After a moment’s deliberation, Theo jammed the small note into the front pocket of a random pair of jeans.

Boris burst out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips as Theo strode toward the kitchenette, under the pretence of making coffee. He kept an eye on Boris while he poured out the coffee. Lightheaded from the anxiety, he hardly noticed that Boris was getting changed right there in his living room, in front of the bare windows. That pale skin was luminous in the bright morning light.

“Have got to go Potter,” Boris said, zipping up his jeans, the exact ones that Theo had crammed the small scrap of paper into. He lit a cigarette before pulling a shirt out from the bag.

“Right,” Theo said, coffee now in hand, the small of his back against the kitchen counter. He couldn’t have been farther from Boris without leaving the apartment. He watched as Boris pulled on a rumpled black shirt and the scar slid out of view.

“Now,” Boris said as he did up the buttons staring hard at Theo.

“Now?” Theo repeated, he had known that this was coming and still he wasn’t prepared for it, probably never could have been.

“Yes now,” Boris replied as he pulled his jacket on and fiddled with the collar for a moment.

“Right,” Theo worked the word out of his mouth knowing that Boris was waiting for more, what exactly Boris was waiting for he didn’t know. Theo had said everything he could force himself to say on the note in Boris’ pocket, nothing more was going to come out of his mouth. He nodded as Boris continued to stare at him. “Guess I’ll see you around then,” he said and hated himself for it.

Theo wanted to beg him to stay, wanted to stride over to Boris and kiss him like he’d never kissed anyone in his life, wanted to wrap his arms around Boris and never let go. He wanted to turn back time, stop Boris from stealing his goldfinch and drag the boy back to New York with him, he wanted them to have a future that had never really belonged to them. A future neither of them had ever dared to hope for.

Theo stayed where he was, he couldn’t move, stood against the kitchen counter with his coffee mug in hand and watched as Boris made his way to the hall. There was a moment, a moment where Theo could change this. While Boris put his coat and shoes on, Theo could have approached him and said the things that were written on the scrap of paper in Boris’ front pocket, but he didn’t. He continued to stay where he was until the door opened and closed and Boris was going.

He took his coffee and sat down on the couch. His reflection stared scornfully back at him from the dark television screen, Theo switched the TV on and some day time talk show was playing. He downed his now warm coffee.

His heart was hammering against his ribs despite the fact that it was jammed up into his throat. Theo could hardly swallow. He already regretted it. What was the point of telling Boris how he felt now or ever? It wasn’t like they could be together. They were planets, rotating around a star, and their orbits rarely ever overlapped. There was no way that Theo could be a part of Boris’ world and vice versa. It couldn’t and wouldn’t work. Maybe they would have a few great weeks, a couple of months at the most, but then the things that had kept them apart as children would come between them again.

Theo drew his hand down his face. If he never tried then he would never know and if Boris rejected him then at least he could move on, at least there wouldn’t always be these ‘maybe’s and ‘what if’s floating in his mind. If Boris accepted him then things would be difficult, Theo knew that, but they could try. Theo owed that much to the boy that had reached out to Boris in the night.

With his mind finally made up, as much as Theo could make his mind up, now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

Theo didn’t usually have baths, they took too much time and lead his mind to wander, which was exactly what Theo avoided at all costs. That night though, Theo needed to think. He climbed into the tub and left his glasses on. Knees pressed up against his chest, Theo watched the steam rise around him.

It had been five days and Boris had said nothing. Theo didn’t know what he’d expected. Boris had never replied to any of the messages he’d left before, neither of them had tried to contact the other in the time between Antwerp and the night that continued to burn in Theo brain, why would that change now? Maybe he hadn’t even read the note. It was small, just a scrap of paper ripped out of a magazine, it was easily missed. Theo stared at the tiles in horror as he thought about the note being turned to mulch in the wash.

He dipped his head under the water and screamed. The noise bubbled out of his mouth and moved up around his head until it reached the surface. He pulled his head out of the water and left his glasses behind. Theo had been clean for over a year now, but the urge to take something, anything to take the edge off was almost crushing.

There was nothing he could do. He had no way of getting in contact with Boris, he remembered the unfamiliar phone that Boris had pulled out of his jacket that night. He had left it all up to chance, which was fucking stupid since Theo had always had lousy luck, his efforts were doomed to begin with.

Theo dropped his glasses over the side of the bathtub, listening as they thudded dully upon the mat. He tipped his head back and leaned his neck against the lip of the tub. Staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, Theo wondered what Boris was doing at that moment, could he be doing the same thing as Theo? Was he thinking about Theo the same way that Theo was thinking about him? Theo couldn’t imagine that.

He closed his eyes. That night played for him like an old movie, a projection thrown against the backs of his eyelids without his permission. A rough hand around his hip, he could almost feel it. The way Boris’ hair had felt as it fell between his fingers. Fingers inside him and then more, just the thought of it made Theo flush, hot all over from shame and excitement.

It wasn’t hard to tell that he’d never done anything like that before. Even though he’d thought about it, thought about other boys at different points in his life. Watching the other boys get changed in the locker room, thinking about the guy with the dark hair and wild smile in one of his college classes, watching movie stars kiss and wishing he was the one being kissed by the guy. All of it had been so easy to ignore. He was just curious, surely everyone felt at least a little curious about it at some point.

If that was right, then he couldn’t be curious anymore.

Despite that his hand moved down his under the water until he was able to curl his fingers around himself. Theo supposed that he probably masturbated a lot less than the average guy his age. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a libido, it was more that he couldn’t face the things that turned him on, it made him recoil from himself. Shame, guilt, disgust and embarrassment and then those things turned toxic inside him. Theo knew he had no reason to feel that way. Maybe he did, a little, but that was nothing to do with his sexuality and had a whole lot more to do with past choices.

This time he didn’t recoil and the shame, guilt, disgust didn’t come, though the embarrassment came later but for a different reason. He always felt embarrassed after he did anything.

Things with Boris were different, they always were. Boris was always the exception.

* * *

It was seeping into every aspect of his life. Poisoning him, it made his skin itch, kept him up at night.

He had always been able to play a part, he could put on a show and pretend to be whoever he needed to be to get a sale or to get someone off of his back, but he couldn’t hide forever and he could never entirely hide from Hobie. Despite how much they both disliked it, how they shied away from conflict, they would have to talk about it eventually.

Theo knew it was coming, had known for a whole week from the furtive looks Hobie had been sending his way whenever he thought he wasn’t looking. He had tried to avoid it. Leaving early after work and coming in almost late, declining invitations for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He knew he couldn’t avoid Hobie forever. It was cruel to even avoid Hobie to begin with since he knew these kinds of conversations were just as painful for the other man as they were for him. Neither of them handled conflict well.

He came in early one Saturday morning with coffee from a place Hobie liked that was two blocks away. Theo had worked out a story that was close enough to the truth not to feel like a lie. The building was bright, Theo watched the dust motes float through the shafts of morning light that came through the windows, it felt like moving through a memory.

Popper came scrambling across the kitchen floor toward him. Pawing at Theo’s pant leg, probably hoping that he had something to feed him. Instead Theo just patted him on the head and set the coffees down on the kitchen table.

“Oh, you’re here early,” Hobie said with pleasant surprise as he shuffled into the room.

“I brought coffee,” Theo said, ignoring Hobie’s statement as he nodded at the steaming coffees.

“Thank you,” Hobie said with genuine gratification at Theo’s presumed thoughtfulness, guilt twisted slickly in Theo’s gut as he stared up at Hobie’s gentle smile. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Nope,” Theo said, shaking his head lightly.

“I’ll rustle up some eggs then,” Hobie said, he always enjoyed making food for others, and that was why Theo hadn’t brought any food with him, he knew Hobie would prefer to make the food himself.

“Sounds great,” Theo said, smiling back at Hobie, hoping that none of the emotions shifting under his skin showed through.

It wasn’t until Hobie had turned his back to Theo that he stopped talking around the issue they both knew was hanging over them, like a rain cloud taking up space against the ceiling, threatening to let loose a downpour upon them.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a meal together,” Hobie noted, finally cutting the crap and getting to the real issue at hand.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I’ve just had some stuff on my mind,” Theo said, trying not to mumble as he scratched the back of his head, he was unendingly thankful that Hobie wasn’t looking at him.

“Oh?” Hobie shot a quick look over his shoulder but went back to the frying pan just as quickly.

“Boris was here, a few weeks ago,” Theo forced the words out and took a sip of his coffee.

“Oh,” Hobie said and turned around to really look at Theo, the younger man was hiding behind the takeout coffee cup.

They hadn’t spoken much about Boris, but Theo had a feeling that Hobie knew a lot more than he let on, though the little Theo had shared was probably more than enough.

“Nothing bad happened,” Theo said, and that much was true. Strangely, Boris hadn’t offered him any kinds of drugs, no powder or pills, just the intoxication of alcohol and the inviting warmth of his skin. “I almost missed him, he caught me the day I came back from Chicago and he had to go the next day,” he went on, choosing to focus on the mundane, making that the more important part of the situation rather than everything that had happened afterward, “he was only in the city for that day.”

“Like ships passing in the night,” Hobie murmured as he refocused on the eggs, he preferred to speak romantically, probably side-stepping the trouble he knew Boris was or at least the trouble he’d been to Theo.

“Exactly,” Theo said and took another sip of his coffee, realising he hadn’t explained his despondent mood at all. “It was weird,” he said, struggling the words out of his mouth, “it was weird because it was kind of normal – nice and I spent the whole time wondering when things were going to go bad and I don’t know I guess I just got in my head about it,” he fumbled his way through his half-assed and half-true explanation. He’d just gotten into his head? Theo wasn’t sure that he ever got out of it.

“The unexpected can throw us for a loop,” Hobie said sagely as he set the plates down. China loaded with eggs, bacon, tomatoes and French toast, Theo’s mouth was watering before he’d even taken up his cutlery.

“Yeah,” Theo breathed. Hobie couldn’t really be further from the truth.

In a way, Theo had always expected things to go that way, for Boris to find him in the dark again. He felt like he’d been waiting most of his life for exactly that to happen. And still he’d fucked it up. He had wasted the morning flipping out over absolutely nothing, it wasn’t like Boris hadn’t touch him like that before, even in the weird liminal space that was Boris’ apartment in Antwerp it was entirely out of the ordinary. 

He pulled himself out of his thoughts, he didn’t need to worry Hobie any more with his silence, and complimented him on his ever exemplary cooking. Hiding behind the truth, he’d always been good at that. 

* * *

The Idiot was caught between the fingers of one hand as he sat in the shop and waited for a customer to come in. It was kind of pathetic, he wasn’t going to find answers in the pages of a book he’d already read many times before, at least he looked a little cultured to whoever came in. The door chimed and Theo lifted his head to see who had come in. Kitsey strode toward him, every step exuded a confidence that Theo had always been jealous of, though he wasn’t pleased to see her.

“How are you doing Theo?” She asked, smiling at him. Theo looked back down at the book.

“I’m fine,” Theo said, short and clipped. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out why she would come to see him. He was at the apartment enough, visiting her mother, surely this could wait.

“Who are you trying to be?” Kitsey asked. Theo could feel her eyes on him, piercing yet distant.

Theo knew what she meant but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk to her at all let alone about this specific thing, he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. He’d always been trying to be whatever everyone else expected him to be. Mostly he was trying to be the boy his mother loved, though he could never be that boy again, that boy had died along with her.

Boris never expected him to be anyone but himself. No judgement, no expectations, no pressure to be anything at all. Theo struggled with who he was when Boris was around precisely because of the lack of expectations. There was more to it though, and Theo would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t know that too. He didn’t know who he was around Boris because of the way Boris made him feel. No one else made him feel that way and that was part of the problem.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Theo replied and turned a page, though he hadn’t read a single word upon it.

“Sure you don’t,” Kitsey said, looking straight at him as though she was looking through him. He wondered if there was anyone who couldn’t.

“What is this about?” Theo asked, sighing as he stared up at her, finally lifting his eyes from the page he wasn’t reading.

“People are worried about you Theo,” Kitsey said, clearly exasperated, brows riding high on her forehead.

“You’re mother’s worried about me,” Theo returned flatly. Mrs. Barbour seemed to be forever worried about him, though Theo had put that down to her high strung motherly nature. She always had been and always would be worried about him.

“I can still worry about you,” Kitsey said sharply, almost offended as she stared back at him.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Theo muttered, the look Kitsey gave him was scathing, “I wish nobody did,” he added, as though he were clarifying instead of back-peddling.

“That’s not how this works,” Kitsey said firmly.

Theo groaned, pushing his fingers under his glass to rub his eyes, he hoped that Kitsey wouldn’t be there when he looked back up but knew she would be.

“What do you want me to say Kitsey?” Theo asked and he meant, he’d say whatever she wanted him to just to get her to go away.

“There’s nothing I want you to say Theo,” Kitsey sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “People just want to know what’s going on with you,” she continued, practically repeating herself.

“Nothing’s going on with me,” Theo said, still clutching onto the book.

“Is that the problem?” Kitsey asked, she moved a little closer, brows raised as she watched him.

“There’s no problem Kitsey,” Theo said sharply and set the book down on the counter, “seriously, there’s nothing going on and you can tell your mom that I’m fine and that there’s nothing to worry about,” he added, staring straight at her, wholly unwilling to back down.

“Fine, I’ll do that,” Kitsey said, she turned on her heels and left the store.

Theo put his elbows on the counter and pushed his hands through his hair. He didn’t need anyone to worry about him. Really there wasn’t anything to worry about, Theo was moving through the world just the same as he always had, the only difference was that he had one more thing on his mind.

* * *

Curled crooked against the headboard, Theo pawed at his beaten copy of The Idiot, hoping to feel something that he knew he wouldn’t find between the printed words. He ached to feel closer to Boris. The yearning burned in his stomach like acid reflux. It kept him up at night; it had him gritting his teeth against the pain, wearing an old mask that he feared everyone could see through.

Before Boris had tumbled back into his life it had been easier to ignore, but the more he thought about Boris the more he realised that he had littered his life with reminders of the other. The Idiot was one of those things. The stunted efforts he’d made at conversational Russian, his continued preference for vodka, they way he watched old movies whenever he couldn’t sleep, he still listened to rap music and a number of other things. It was pathetic, how he’d never let go.

He had spent the majority of his life ignoring and avoiding everything he’d done with Boris. Still he felt the gnawing yearning that was missing him. He felt cold at night and lonely in the shower. There was too much silence around him, a clear sign that Boris wasn’t there, and the tinnitus filled the void. It felt like his ears were filled with sand. Now his ears were clear and he couldn’t avoid himself anymore.

Theo had found himself writing again, although in an entirely different way from how he’d been before. He was no longer addressing his mother. He wasn’t waiting to go back to a place where he couldn’t go, he wasn’t waiting for her to come and get him. Instead, Theo addressed himself and it was terrifying. It was much easier than addressing Boris.

At first he’d written down as much as he could remember, all the nights that passed between them, or at least as much as he could stomach. It felt wrong writing it down. He was committing it to paper, creating evidence of the things he’d done and the things he was, though he had written worse things down. Locked in a briefcase under the bed was enough evidence to send him straight to prison. Somehow though, writing about Vegas felt more incriminating.

Theo’s descriptions were stilted, stale, as though he were simply reporting on the factual events instead of recording something that had affected his entire life. He couldn’t write prose about the frantic nights they had shared as kids. There wasn’t a lot of romance there. The time they had spent together was full of terror, loathing, depression, anxiety, violence, the highest highs and dizzying lows. They used each other to cope with the things they were going through, things that children shouldn’t go through, they clung to each other because there wasn’t anyone else to cling to. In hindsight it was all awfully sad and left Theo feeling hollow.

Was he only interested in Boris because he was someone he could cling to? Or was it because they had never really tried or talked about it or pursued it? Though Theo doubted he’d have been able to pursue it. Never mind his personal hang ups, Theo was pretty sure that both of their dad’s would have beat the snot out of them if they’d have ever been caught, their parents had raised their fists before. And Theo was certain that he’d have thrown more than a few punches Boris’ way if the other had really brought it up.

That kiss, the only one that had never left Theo’s mind when he’d forgotten so many others, that had really shocked his system. It was the thing that almost made him admit things to himself. Things he still hadn’t wholly admitted, but he was getting close, his writing was proof of that.

* * *

It was early in the morning on a Sunday. Theo was doing the dishes just to have something to put his breakfast on, as his coffee brewed in the corner against the fridge, music played out of his crappy laptop speakers. His phone started to vibrate against the counter. Theo wiped his hands on the front of his sweats, switched off the music and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID.

“Talk to him,” where the first words that came out of Pippa’s mouth.

“Who?” Theo replied, his brows scrunched up in confusion as he stared down at the dish soap in the sink, avoiding his reflection in the water.

“Boris,” Pippa stated, as though that should have been obvious to him.

“You’ve been talking to Hobie,” Theo said, voice flat and low. His bemused stare turned into something close to a glare.

“Of course I’ve been talking to Hobie,” Pippa said lightly, as though that too should be obvious, which that one actually was.

“You know what I mean,” Theo muttered, he looked out through the window, as though he’d be able to see all the way to England from his apartment. “And anyway, I can’t talk to him,” he added perfunctorily. 

“Why?” Pippa asked with great interest. Theo didn’t want to get into it, it was too early in the morning and really it wasn’t any of Pippa’s business, just like it wasn’t Kitsey’s or anyone else’s business.

“He got a new phone, I don’t know his number,” Theo explained, as though he owed her any explanation.

“Maybe he kept his old number?” Pippa suggested.

Theo hadn’t thought about that, probably because it would give him too much hope, it would give him a great opportunity to fuck up.

“How do you know I haven’t tried it?” He asked, hand on his hip as he turned away from the sink.

“Because I know you,” Pippa said with confident assurance. Theo strongly resented the notion but he wasn’t going to fight her on it, especially not after the letter she had written and not after she’d declared them too alike to be together.

“So what if I haven’t? I know he wouldn’t have the same number because I know him,” Theo returned, though whether or not he really knew Boris at all was something that plagued him. “I wouldn’t know what to say to him even if I did know his number,” he added, though he instantly regretted it because he knew she would offer something up, always eager to give Theo advice on things that had nothing to do with her.

“I think you do know what to say, you’re very good with words when you want to be,” Pippa said and Theo was getting sick of her acting like she knew everything about him, he hated the thought of her casually referencing the letter he’d left her, he was just about ready to hang up the phone.

“I don’t know about that,” Theo muttered, more to himself than to her. “Well what would you say to him?”

“I would tell him that he’s fallen for someone that will never be able to be brave enough to fall for him,” Pippa said.

Theo wondered if this was what it felt like to be shot. The shock was followed directly by angry indignation, rocketing through him like he’d been electrocuted. He hung up the phone and threw on the floor, he wasn’t paying much attention tough and it hit him on the foot, at least it didn’t crack the screen but it sure as hell hurt. Hands curled around the edge of the counter, his knuckles turned sheet white. Theo left the phone where it was.

He strode over to the coffee table, snatched up the pack of cigarettes and zippo lighter, opened the window and sat on the floor beside it. It took him a few tries to light the cigarette but eventually he got there. The first drag was heaven. He almost forgot how angry he was, almost forgot how absolutely terrified he was, but he didn’t.

His phone was still on the floor. Theo eyed it as he continued to smoke under the window, thoughts crawled across his brain like cockroaches, and he couldn’t get rid of them. He still had the number that Boris had given him. He could send a message and that would put an end to one of the thoughts circling his mind.

With a groan, Theo stretched and reached for the phone, he grabbed it up from the floor and leaned back against the wall. He held the cigarette between his teeth as he stared at the empty text screen.

_Do you still smoke?_

Theo had seen him smoking, the day he’d left. It was meaningless, but that was the point because the rest of it wasn’t. Whatever reply Boris gave him didn’t matter, the contents would be as meaningless as Theo’s original message. It would just be letters on a screen. All that would matter was that Boris replied.

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theo's a mess. What else is new?  
> Hey thanks for reading and thanks so much for the kudos and comments! Catch me on tumblr @ theweakestthing and twitter @ th_weakestthing  
> See you on the next chapter! xx


	3. Dusk.

“ **I never fall apart because I never fall together.** ” _– Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol_

* * *

_Yes._

It was a simple reply, no more than three letters, Theo had expected as much. He stared at the word for so long that his cigarette burned down and the ash dropped onto his thigh. Theo jumped and brushed it to the floor. He swore to himself as he did so, feeling like a jackass. Boris had texted him back, it wasn’t a big deal, it might not have even been Boris. Neither he nor the person who replied declared who they were.

The phone vibrated in his hand and Theo dropped it, it landed in the ash and continued to vibrate against the wooden floor boards. He plucked it off the floor. This time he actually checked the caller ID, at the sight of Boris’ name he fumbled to answer the phone.

“Hello?” Theo said, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

“Potter,” Boris’ voice broke out of the speakers of Theo’s phone, “why ask such question?”

“I’m smoking and the question just came to me,” Theo said, desperately trying to brush it off as nothing, just a casual thought that Theo had. Finally he put the dead end of his cigarette out against the floorboards.

“You don’t text me for years and suddenly,” Boris made a sound in his throat, something flippant before he continued, “out of blue.”

“Yeah,” Theo replied, he really didn’t have anything else to say, it was just enough to hear Boris breathing.

“Is that all?” Boris asked and it felt like he knew, like he knew exactly what Theo had tried to do, why he’d sent that message. It always felt like Boris knew exactly what Theo was trying to do. Though Boris probably had no idea what was going through Theo’s mind.

“Pretty much yeah,” Theo said and nodded despite knowing that Boris couldn’t see him.

“What are you doing right now?” Boris asked, it almost felt as though he’d asked what Theo was wearing, his voice had dropped low and Theo suspected that Boris was alone.

“Smoking,” Theo reiterated, he pulled another cigarette out of the pack and lit it.

“Anything else?” Boris asked, like this was a normal conversation.

“I was washing dishes,” Theo said. He sent a furtive glance toward the sink, the water was probably cold by now, and he’d have to fill it up again.

“No dishwasher?” Boris asked, apparently shocked at this information.

“Nope,” Theo replied curtly.

“You are living in stone age my friend,” Boris announced as though Theo needed an awakening.

“I prefer it,” he said, it was a lame explanation but it was true. Theo liked to wash his own dishes, it made him feel like he was doing something, being productive instead of just sitting around the apartment reading books he’d already read.

“Stuck in the past,” Boris jabbed.

“Fuck you,” Theo said around the cigarette in his mouth.

“With your old things and your dish soap,” Boris went on as though Theo hadn’t spoken.

“You’re from the past,” Theo said, watching the smoke twist in the air in front of him.

“But I have changed,” Boris replied with sharp conviction, as though nothing could be truer, as though it was the only absolutely truth in the universe.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Not really,” Theo said.

“Oh? And you know me so well,” Boris asked, genuine intrigue peppered his speech.

“The bits of you that I know haven’t change,” Theo relented slightly. There was a whole lot he didn’t definitively know about Boris, but he still felt like he _knew_ Boris, as much sense as that made.

“I’m sure some parts are bigger,” Boris said, quick and clever.

Theo spluttered, coughing on the thick smoke, choking on nothing but his own bullshit issues. If he was braver, if these things didn’t matter to him, if he didn’t feel like he was drowning every time these sorts of things came up then he could have said something clever back. He could have flirted. Instead he crushed the cigarette against the floorboards and said something inane.

“I’m taller now,” Theo said, pretending that nothing had happened and not a moment had passed since Boris’ previous statement.

“That’s the only thing that has changed about you Potter,” Boris said and Theo could clearly hear the smug self-satisfaction in his voice.

“Nothing else?” Theo asked, one brow arched quizzically as he stared across at his front door.

“Well, you are not so skinny either,” Boris relented, as though he was giving too much away, as though Theo were taking him to the cleaners.

“Neither are you,” Theo returned, and those words changed something. The air around him changed, it was charged like there was about to be a storm, static in the air.

“No, am not skinny anymore,” Boris said.

Theo knew they weren’t really talking about how much they had grown anymore. His stomach twisted strangely, a confused mixture of desire and disgust. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer. And yet, he didn’t want to stop. It was easier to forget about all of his hang ups with Boris, when the light wasn’t on them, when they were thousands of miles apart, when they were drunk, when they were high and wasted out of their minds, when their fists were bloody, when it didn’t feel like he was about to be found out and exposed.

“Potter, I have to go now,” Boris announced. Theo hadn’t realised that they’d fallen into silence until Boris had broken it.

“Right, yeah,” Theo said, nodding again, he realised that he probably nodded too much whenever he felt awkward.

“Speak soon,” Boris said it like a promise and Theo wanted to take it as one.

“Okay,” Theo said and with that Boris was gone.

Theo felt alone. He felt cold, as though someone had just left the room. After a moment Theo closed the window and rose from the floor, he swept the ash and butt ends of the cigarettes into his hands and dumped it all into the trash.

* * *

Theo’s problem was that he let everything consume him. When he had something on his mind, it really was constantly on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Boris even if he’d wanted to.

They had started texting, messaging each other every day. Theo had never had that kind of continued communication with anyone, the only people he’d spoke to that much had been ghosts. Boris messaged him about the coffee he had that morning and Theo would talk about a new place he’d gotten his espresso from that Boris would hate. He messaged Boris about a couple that had just brought a $200,000 chest of draws and were definitely two weeks away from divorce, then Boris would spend the next half hour telling Theo about the psychology of a married couple, all of which Theo thought was complete bullshit. Theo would tell Boris about the dinners he’d been to with Hobie and his high-society friends and Boris would tell him to disrupt their complacency with the ideas of Russian philosophers he’d never heard of. Boris would wake him up in the dead of night to complain about a movie and usually it was a movie that Theo didn’t really feel one way or another about, it always turned out that Boris had misunderstood something or wilfully ignored the point the movie was trying to make. They talked on the phone all the time too, and mostly times that were inconvenient for Theo. He took the calls anyway.

It was like they had never stopped talking. It was like they were making up for lost time, filling the space between them with words that didn’t really matter but meant the world to Theo.

He wondered if they could ever be strangers again, if there would ever be a time that he could pass Boris by in the street and say nothing, feel nothing. There was no way. Theo knew that he would always be in some type of love with Boris. Even if they never saw each other again, there was no way to come back from killing for someone. They would never be strangers.

Theo thought that he could lose everything he knew about other people. He could forget the things they had told him, forget the way they smiled when they laughed, the way they smelled, the way they felt, all the time he had spent with them doing nothing at all. He could forget everyone, but he’d never forget Boris.

Boris was imprinted on his soul, as much as the goldfinch was, and he’d take the two with him wherever he went on the inside of his skin.

* * *

Different dreams came, infrequent and elusive, like a soft sheet gently draped over him. Theo didn’t dare hope for them when he lied down in his bed at night. Dreams of a firm and familiar hand cupping the back of his head, pulling him close, pulling him in to the sweetest embrace he’d ever known.

Conversations that had probably happened but not the way he dreamed them happening. Things he had wanted to say but could never let leave his mouth, things he had wanted to hear but had never dared to hope for. Words he had heard as he was half asleep or just falling. Sweet nothings whispered into his hair as Boris’ limbs encircled him, things he’d pretended not to hear.

In some dreams, Theo packed his suitcase and left, running toward the only thing he really wanted. He figured it was leftovers from what he’d been thinking about before he fell asleep.

He woke with a start. Theo was laid out on the couch, the TV was on and the book he’d been reading was still open on his chest, his phone was vibrating as it shifted around on the coffee table. He snatched it up and answered without looking at the caller ID. He already knew who it was.

“Yeah?” Theo said groggily, voice thick, his mind still half asleep.

“Is that how you greet your best friend?” Boris said, something close to indignant, as though Theo had genuinely offended him with how he’d answered the phone.

“I guess it is,” Theo muttered, “at least when I’ve just woken up,” he turned the volume down on the TV and set the book on the coffee table. 

“I interrupt your beauty sleep?” Boris asked, amused.

“It was just regular sleep Boris,” Theo said, though he didn’t know what the time was, he could see that it was dark out through the window.

“Whatever,” Boris said, waving Theo off with his words, “have you seen this movie, Jacob’s Ladder,” he went on, ignoring Theo’s words like usual.

“Yeah, I saw it in college,” Theo said, he hadn’t liked it much but he had realised that it had artistic importance, that there was more to it than whatever he had gotten out of it.

“Is garbage, nonsense movie,” Boris exploded and Theo knew he was smoking, could hear it in the slight muffle of his voice and hiss of him taking a drag off of it.

“I think that was part of the point,” Theo said weakly, he wasn’t ready to defend a movie he didn’t care all that much for against Boris, he still wasn’t quite sure that he was awake.

“You know better movie,” Boris said and it took Theo a moment to realise that he was actually waiting for his reply.

“What?” Theo asked, humouring Boris. He always enjoyed talking about movies with Boris. Even when he was pissed off at Boris’ strange opinions, he still enjoyed himself, laughing down the phone at whatever wild and outrageous thing Boris had said.

“Thelma and Louise,” Boris said with such finality that it might as well have been the only decent movie in all existence.

“Yeah?” Theo replied.

“Have you seen it?” Boris asked.

“No,” Theo said, he was sure that Kitsey had mentioned it maybe once, he couldn’t remember and it was probably better that way.

“Is great, you have to see it,” Boris said enthusiastically and Theo knew that Boris was about to tell him everything about it so that Theo wouldn’t actually have to see it. “Two women, best friends like us, get away from drab boring shitty lives for short vacation, only they accidentally kill man but he deserved it,” he explained with a sneer, Theo could imagine Boris spitting on the floor at the mention of this fictional man, “they spend the rest of the movie on the run, hold up store for cash, ah but the ending sucks,” he lost steam as came to the end, the energy drained from his voice.

“Why?” Theo asked, leaning forward as though he could get closer to Boris that way.

“Because they don’t get away, they drive off edge of cliff,” Boris said with a sigh, it sounded like he took another drag off his cigarette.

“Why would they do that?” Theo asked, frowning as some WW2 footage played on the screen before him; he’d probably left it on the history channel.

“So that the cops don’t get them,” Boris said as though that should have been obvious to Theo, though he’d never seen the movie and knew nothing about it.

“Makes sense,” Theo said with a shrug that Boris obviously couldn’t see.

“Not fair though, Thelma and Louise were only doing what they had to, they deserved better,” Boris said with feeling, it obviously bothered him.

Theo began to wonder just how much of them and their relationship had Boris seen in the movie. In a way, Boris had come and taken him out of his boring life that was slowly crumbling to pieces around him, but he hadn’t exactly enjoyed it. He had spent the whole time he’d been in Amsterdam filled to the brim with anxiety of varying levels. Then he’d killed someone. Then he’d tried to kill himself. Then Boris came back and things were different and the same and everything was strange. Maybe that was why nothing had happened in those days they’d spent together in Antwerp.

“Well,” Theo said and cleared his throat, stalling for a thought to suddenly occur to him, “at least the cops didn’t get them,” he decided to say.

“Yes,” Boris agreed.

The cops hadn’t got them either. At least not yet.

* * *

Kitsey caught him just as he was leaving the Barbour’s apartment. He’d just come from lunch with her mother, it had been delightful, which probably had more to do with the good mood he’d been in recently than anything he’d consumed. Mrs. Barbour’s company was as comforting as always though.

“Do you have a minute Theo?” She asked, still in her jacket and shoes, she’d just come in. Theo was just leaving.

“No,” Theo said with a curt shake of his head and stepped into the elevator. Much to his chagrin, she stepped in beside him before he could get the doors closed.

“You seem chipper,” Kitsey said, it almost sounded like an accusation.

“No I don’t,” Theo returned without looking at her, he kept his eyes forward in the blurred forms of their reflections.

“Yes you do,” Kitsey said, smiling up at Theo as though she’d caught him out, red handed.

“Okay,” Theo drew out in a sigh.

“It’s a good thing Theo,” Kitsey said, turning fully toward him with her smile, “it’s nice to see you happy,” she added, like she really meant it, and maybe she did.

“I’m not happy,” Theo said flatly. He wasn’t sure why he was protesting so much, surely he’d want to rub his happiness in Kitsey’s face, even if he didn’t think he was happy. Theo didn’t think he was happy.

He also didn’t get why she gave a shit. Sure he still cared about her, but it was more that he cared deeply about her mother and as such cared about her. Maybe it was the same for her. Perhaps there were residual feelings between them, the leftover parts of their doomed affair, small flecks of affection for each other stuck to their fingertips like wax drying in an instant.

“You’re smiling,” Kitsey replied, pointing at his face.

“I’m not smiling,” Theo replied, the elevator stopped at the ground floor and Theo stepped out into the lobby.

“Theo,” Kitsey called, chasing after him, all the way out to the street. Theo stopped, commended himself for not sighing, and waited for her.

“Yes?” Theo said heavily, staring down at Kitsey, waiting for her speak.

“I’m happy for you, really,” she said earnestly.

“Uh, thanks,” Theo stammered, confused and disarmed, hands deep in his jacket pockets.

“You’re welcome,” Kitsey returned with a smile and went back inside the building leaving Theo dumbfounded on the sidewalk.

Was he happy? Theo didn’t know, he was less miserable, that was for sure. He had done less moping since he’d started talking to Boris. Maybe it was just that he had something to look forward to, something to distract him from his usual misery. Either way he felt a lot better than he did before. Maybe that was just as good as being actually happy.

* * *

Theo liked to hold onto old things. It was the better part of his obsessive tendencies. He fantasised about getting a Bakelite phone, connecting a landline in a generation of people that no longer had landlines. In a way, he supposed he was old fashioned. The zippo lighter in his inside pocket was old. He liked to dress well, the way people expected him to, like a humble but well off man whose wardrobe was stuck on the cusp of the sixties.

There were other ways he continued to stay in the past, through great effort he’d shaken some of them off. He didn’t write to his mother anymore, not after the dream he’d had, he did still wonder who she would want him to be. He had long since given up on trying to make her proud. The goldfinch was gone, back in the right hands and where it belonged, but Theo carried a piece of it with him even if it wasn’t a tangible thing that anyone else would notice. Pippa was a part of that. Theo knew and he had still tried to pursue something with her, no matter how doomed that was, shared trauma does not necessarily tie people together.

Maybe it was why he continued to cling to Boris.

He wanted to hear Boris’ accented voice from the receiver of a Bakelite phone, lying on the floor staring at the legs of his shitty seventies furniture, at least it was better than getting anything from Ikea. It was a strange fantasy. He wasn’t even thinking about touching Boris, he just wanted to hear his voice on the phone.

It had been a long time since he’d heard Boris’ voice. At least it felt that way to Theo, in reality they had only spoken on the phone the day before, but every minute between then and now felt like a minute wasted.

Theo didn’t know whether he had a favourite part of Boris, a piece he cherished more than the others, but there had always been something about the way that Boris spoke to him. That familiar candour, it always sent thrills through Theo’s stomach. It felt like they were up to no good whenever they spoke. Sometimes Theo found himself checking to make sure he was alone even though there wasn’t anything much to overhear. It made him feel like a kid again.

It made him feel like he had something to hide. Theo liked having something that was only his, something that no one else knew about. Sure, Boris might have told some people he knew that they were talking, but that didn’t affect Theo, at least not at that moment.

“Do you think everyone knew?” Theo asked Boris one lazy afternoon, splayed out on his bed, sheets half over his body.

“Knew what?” Boris asked. Theo could tell that he was preoccupied, he heard the plastic winding noise of a cheap lighter failing to light, Boris was muttering under his breath to himself in one of the many languages he spoke.

“That we were high all the time,” Theo clarified. He thought about smoking himself, but he didn’t want to get out of bed.

“Probably,” Boris replied, “probably didn’t care,” he added, matter-of-fact.

“Right, yeah, you’re probably right,” Theo said, nodding to himself as he sat up against the headboard. The sheets pooled around his waist.

“Probably knew other things too,” Boris went on, as though Theo hadn’t said anything.

Theo’s throat closed up instantly. Boris could have easily been talking about the drinking or the bruises that would appear on their bodies from each other or, for Boris, from their parents. It wasn’t a given that Boris meant the things that they never talked about.

“Right,” Theo said strained, grasping for something else to talk about. “You ever think of getting a home, you know, putting down roots?” He asked.

Theo had roots, he had Hobie and he had the shop, both of which he’d taken on as his responsibility to varying degrees. He was working his ass off to keep them above water. Money never seemed to last, it was put in one hand and taken out of the other.

Sometimes he felt trapped. Sometimes he felt as though this was going to be the rest of his life, stuck in the same place with nothing else to do, nowhere else to go. It almost seemed inevitable that he’d move back into the shop and take over whenever Hobie died.

He loved New York, but the prospect of never being anywhere else was gnawing at him.

“Ah Potter, I like going here and there,” Boris said, half muffled, clearly he’d finally managed to light his cigarette, “am not man that can be tied down.”

Theo might as well have not asked. The answer was obvious. But he wondered, vainly, if he could ever tie Boris down.

“Do you think you ever could be?” He asked, almost tentatively, biting on the inside of his cheek as he waited for Boris’ answer.

“Don’t know,” Boris said, the timber of his voice changed and Theo knew he’d seen right through him, “maybe, when I am old, maybe when right person arrives,” he went on and Theo felt led on. “Though travelling is in my blood, I hate being anywhere for too long.”

“That makes sense,” Theo said, trying to keep the bitterness he felt from his words.

“Why is this on your mind, thinking of getting married again Potter?” Boris asked, laughing as he spoke, jabbing at Theo the same way he always had.

“I didn’t get married the first time,” Theo stated flatly. He ran a hand through his hair and stared out the window.

“Exactly,” Boris returned like he’d made some sort of point.

“Exactly what Boris?” Theo asked, brows furrowed, fingers dipping under the collar of his t-shirt to scratch at his chest.

“You are not ready for marriage,” Boris said, as though he was any better. Theo knew if he said something like that then Boris would bring up his fake wife and kids. “Messed up Potter, need to, errr, get shit together,” he added, the hiss of him taking another drag off his cigarette punctuated his statement.

“Right,” Theo said derisively, rolling his eyes as he shifted against the pillows.

“Don’t be like that,” Boris sighed, “you know I am same, but I am not trying to settle down, I know myself better,” he went on, holding himself above Theo just the same way he had when they were kids. Though Theo now knew Boris had had a point back then but things seemed a little more level now.

“Sure you do,” Theo said sarcastically.

“Know you better, better than anyone,” Boris continued, determined to win out against Theo’s stubbornness.

“That one might actually be true,” Theo relented, hoping to avoid an argument between them or at least this particular argument, he wouldn’t mind debating the merits of the Transformers movies but talking about their relationship was always a minefield.

“Of course is true,” Boris exclaimed. “You are brother of my blood, best friend in whole world,” he continued, stopping only to snicker to himself, “thick as thieves as saying goes.”

Theo huffed a dry laugh.

“Ah! He laughs,” Boris shouted and Theo held the phone away from his ear for a second, “must be new record Potter,” he added, laughing himself.

“Fuck off,” Theo barked, though he was still smiling when he said it. He couldn’t count the amount of times that he’d said those words to Boris, though he probably could count how many times he had actually meant it.

“You fuck off,” Boris returned and Theo could hear the smile in his voice.

When he eventually put the phone down, Theo’s face ached from smiling so much, he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

* * *

Whatever happiness Theo had felt, it was quickly sliding out of view. The moments between his conversations with Boris were almost agony. He did whatever he could to distract himself. Popper was too old to go walking, he was probably not long for this world, and Theo dreaded the day that he’d finally die. Though he’d have an excuse to talk to Boris, the thought instantly made Theo feel sick at himself. He took every invitation to have a meal with Hobie, unless the other guests were unfavourable. The food was always good, so mostly the company didn’t matter. He even answered Pippa’s emails with improved vigour and a marked lack of pathetic longing.

Theo missed thinking about her. Being in love with Pippa was uncomplicated, his longing was right, it was story book, and they had so much in common. They had very little in common. Theo was pretty sure that she had never gotten high or drunk in her teens, especially not at the Swiss school she’d been sent to, even if she had been high it was probably only from smoking weed. Though Pippa had been on hardcore prescription drugs, she probably knew better because of it. She had probably never been in fist fights with her best friend, had probably never shoplifted, and she probably hadn’t done many of the things he and Boris had done together. She’d definitely never stolen a priceless painting, had her best friend steal that, then nearly ten years later show up to announce that the priceless painting was stolen again, they hadn’t taken her to Amsterdam to steal the painting back or the rest of the awful events that transpired during Theo’s European escapade.

Pippa, in all her complexity, was uncomplicated and beautiful in her simplicity against the way he felt about Boris.

The way he refused to think about Boris.

In a way, Theo was relieved that Boris hadn’t read his note, or if he had that he hadn’t mentioned it. In another way it tore him to pieces. If they ever saw each other again, which Theo never ruled out because of pervious experiences, he knew the words would jump straight up onto his tongue the instant he saw Boris. If he ever worked up the nerve then he’d have to do this all over again. He would have to face rejection again, not that he had really ever faced and not that Boris had ever rejected him. Only once.

Only once had Boris rejected him and it had stung for eight whole years until Theo learned the truth, then it burned. It burned deep in his chest. It was the only time that he’d ever given Boris a chance to reject him, and he had, though reasonably so in hindsight. Since Antwerp, Theo had wondered if it would have changed anything had he known that Boris had the painting or if Boris had never taken it. Probably not.

If Theo had stayed then CPS would have shown up eventually, maybe. If not then he might have gone the same way as Boris. Theo really wasn’t made for that kind of life; he was more White Collar Crime than whatever it was that Boris did. They might have died in the desert. Blown out of their minds at the age of sixteen, Theo found the thought alarmingly romantic.

If Boris had followed him back to New York, maybe Hobie would have let him stay? Maybe Boris would have worn out his welcome within the week. Maybe CPS would have shown up and maybe Boris would have been deported. If not then Boris would have distracted him from school, not that he’d ever been truly present. Maybe they’d have realised something, maybe their lives wouldn’t be such a mess.

If they had gone to California, they probably would have overdosed on a different kind of sand.

Maybe this was the way things were supposed to be. The thought left a bad taste in Theo’s mouth, as though his mother’s death was meant to happen, as though all that pain was supposed to happen, if that was true then the universe really did have it out for him.

Whenever he found his mind wandering in that direction, Theo tried to think of better things, though he wasn’t very good at it.

The memory of having Boris, of finally having exactly what he’d always wanted, in his arms was never far from his mind. The feel of him. The smell of him. The taste of him. It made his stomach churn, Theo didn’t know whether it was bile or butterflies.

The thought of losing it all was much closer. The track marks had still been there the last time he’d seen Boris, only slightly faded, and Theo knew that he was a couple bad months away from falling off the wagon, though he was hardly on the wagon. Even without the reckless ways they lived their lives, they could die at any point. Life was unpredictable. Either of them could get run over, car accidents happened all the time, a building could fall on them, either of them could drunkenly trip and crack their head open on the sidewalk, there were innumerable ways in which they could die.

Hobie would make sure that Boris knew, that much Theo was sure of, if Hobie was still alive when Theo finally kicked it. Theo doubted that there was anyone in Boris’ life that would seek him out in the event of Boris’ death.

Then there was the constant but slowly dying fear that the cops would suddenly turn up and start asking questions about Amsterdam. If they hadn’t come in two years, then it was unlikely that they were ever going to come. At least he hoped.

Then there was something that Theo never stopped thinking about, though he would never admit it. Paranoia, it rotted his brain. It made him wonder if everyone he ever met knew. If the couple that came in looking for something chic for their new apartment on the Upper East Side could tell from just one look at him. He wondered if the people that had been at his engagement party and had seen him leave with a suspicious looking man knew. He wondered if Kitsey knew, he’d felt her eyes on him as he left, Boris at his side. He wondered if his dad had known, with the way that he and Boris had practically been glued to each other and if not him then maybe Xandra knew. He wondered if Mrs. Barbour had an inkling, if it had ever crossed her mind. Hobie probably knew, but he would never mention it. Pippa knew and that terrified him.

His mother had known. She knew everything about him.

Boris knew. Boris had always known. Boris knew everything about Theo, at least the important stuff, the kind of stuff a lover knew. Theo couldn’t stand it.

* * *

Theo couldn’t sleep, he could never sleep and when he did it never lasted long. It was four in the morning and he was knelt in front of his fridge in nothing but his underwear sorting through its contents. Insomnia was unrelenting and he might as well do something productive if he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t switched the lights on so the only light was what was spilling out from the fridge.

His phone thrummed loudly against the floorboards, another source of light in the dark apartment. It was a message from Boris.

_I am in New York._

Theo stared down at the words on the screen. He almost replied with ‘so am I’ before he stopped himself, he couldn’t fuck this up, who knew when he’d get another chance? His thumbs were paralysed over the screen. Another message came through before Theo could work up the nerve to type one of his own.

_Can I see you?_

His mouth went dry, his heart clenched in his chest, this was exactly what he wanted and yet Theo found himself absolutely terrified at the thought of finally getting it.

 _Sure_ , Theo replied simply and they worked out a time and a place. When it was over, Theo stared into the glow of his half empty fridge, heart jack-hammering against his ribs. There was no way he was getting any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love writing this, I am thoroughly enjoying myself torturing Theo, the guy does it to himself tho hehe. Anyway, let me know what you think? ??  
> Thanks so much for reading and for the kudos and comments!  
> Catch me on tumblr @ theweakestthing and twitter @ th_weakestthing  
> See you on the next chapter, only two to go! x


	4. Twilight.

“ **Oh, how good it is to be with someone, sometimes.** ” _― Marguerite Duras._

* * *

The wind was bitter. It cut harshly across Theo’s cheeks, chaffing them into rubies. It was nearly Halloween. Theo caught himself in the reflection of a store window, dark circles beneath his eyes, chapped and worry worn lips, sallow but red cheeks. He looked like crap, but Boris had seen him look worse. It wouldn’t have done to dress himself up either.

He found Boris standing outside the coffee shop they had arranged to met at, cigarette held between his fingers, smoke trailing up in front of him. For a moment, Theo just let himself stare. The wind was shifting through Boris’ hair much the same way that Theo wanted to run his fingers through it. It exposed his high and sharp cheek bones. He watched as Boris raised the cigarette to his mouth and took a drag, his thin lips wrapped around the filter. The sight made Theo flush. He hadn’t even made it below Boris’ mouth before the other had caught sight of him. That smile burst wide across his face, those American whites shone in the dim sunlight. Theo stepped forward.

They embraced. Theo wouldn’t have been able to avoid it even if he wanted to. Boris’ arm was fast when it shot out, grabbed at Theo’s elbow and pulled him in, then Boris’ breath was huffing swiftly up toward his neck.

“Good to see you Potter,” Boris said boisterously, holding Theo out at arm’s length, “real sight for swollen eyes,” he went on, his hands moved from Theo’s elbows and up to his cheeks.

“It’s sore eyes Boris, a sight for sore eyes,” Theo explained, smiling down at Boris, he couldn’t agree more. “It’s good to see you too,” he added as Boris’ hand smacked lightly against Theo’s cheek.

They went into the café together. Boris kept telling Theo to go sit down, save them a seat, but there was no way that Theo was going to let him order for the both of them. Somehow though, Boris ended up paying for the both of them. Maybe it meant something, maybe it meant nothing, either way it made Theo self-conscious despite how no one was paying attention to them.

Theo followed Boris, tray in hand, as he weaved between tables toward a low table at the back of the room. They sat in comfy armchairs opposite each other. Theo busied himself with pouring cream and sugar into his coffee, stirring it with the little wooden stick.

Pippa had been right, Theo wasn’t brave.

Out of the two of them, Boris was the brave one, recklessly so. It was probably half of the reason Theo had ever been interested in him. Boris never looked away from him. Theo was never so brave, he could barely look himself in the eye when he caught his reflection in the mirror, and he always backed down when Boris was staring at him. He could feel Boris’ eyes on him as he looked around the café.

He wondered if the people around them could tell, if they could see whatever it was between them, could see what they had done together. He hadn’t been this paranoid since he’d killed someone. Theo’s stomach lurched at the thought, all the blood drained out of his face.

“Hey, Potter, you okay?” Boris asked, the tip of his boot pushed against Theo’s foot, forcing him out of his thoughts and back to Boris.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Theo said with a nod and leaned back against the chair. “You?” Theo asked, mostly because he didn’t want to answer any of Boris’ question, at least not where they could be overheard.

A part of Theo wished that he had asked Boris just to come to his apartment, but he had been worried that it might mean something if he had, that it might be a little too intimate for the way they had been talking to each other in last handful of months.

“Am always fine, more than,” Boris said and dumped a fistful of sugar packets into his latte, smiling wide as he stared back at Theo.

“I would say that you’re going to rot your teeth, but they’re not really your teeth,” Theo said, shaking his head as he watched Boris stir the coffee with his finger. Theo took his own mug in his hands and leaned back again.

“I am too sweet to rot Potter,” Boris returned and his smile took on a different shine. Theo desperately hoped that Boris wouldn’t wink, though it seemed the statement called for it.

“You smoke too much to be sweet,” Theo said.

“So do you,” Boris said and Theo simply shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Did you pick up any of the books I told you about?” Boris asked, picking up his coffee in such a way that Theo was worried for a moment that he might drop it.

“Boris, you’ve recommended a lot of books,” Theo said, licking his lips as he pulled the cup away from his mouth.

“Many to choose from, no excuses,” Boris said and took a hearty gulp of his sickly sweet coffee.

“I did read Brave New World,” Theo muttered, lips moving against the rim of the cup, of course Boris still heard him.

“You didn’t like it,” Boris said, smiling wide as he watched Theo.

“I didn’t say that,” Theo said shaking his head, smiling back at Boris.

“You didn’t say anything because you didn’t like it,” Boris returned and Theo couldn’t exactly argue with that, “is okay, can’t like everything,” he added and sipped at his coffee.

“I just didn’t like that no one tried to change anything,” Theo said, staring off at nothing, coffee cup held in his lap.

“That’s not the point,” Boris said. He sat up, elbows braced on his knees as he leaned toward the table, toward Theo.

“I just think it’d be cool if the people who invent prisons and put their characters in those prisons, would also write those characters escaping the prison,” Theo explained, eyes on Boris’ fingers where they were wrapped around the mug.

“Is not the point, the prison is life, it is allegory,” Boris returned, hand flicking out in front of him.

“It’s a shit allegory,” Theo said derisively and took another sip of his coffee.

“Not shit, you just don’t like reality,” Boris said, eviscerating Theo with one statement, “is what it is,” he added with a shrug. 

Theo sat there for a moment, unable to come up with any kind of argument or reply. He thought that most people didn’t like reality. There was always some ways it could be improved, envy was a thing for a reason, people aspired to things because they wanted to change things. Theo probably disliked his reality a whole lot more than most. What irked him more though, was that Boris was acting like he was above it all. Boris had always acted like that, Theo should have probably gotten over it by now but he hated being looked down on, especially by someone who was most closely his equal.

“How is Popchyk?” Boris asked, changing the subject, breaking the tension. Theo let him, was thankful for it even.

“Not dead yet,” Theo replied.

“Will be soon,” Boris murmured, face flat and serious, “he is getting on,” he said, his voice was far away as he brought his cup back up to his mouth.

“Yeah,” Theo agreed. It was kind of a miracle that the dog wasn’t already dead. He didn’t get much exercise, though you couldn’t really ever get him to. Popper had a great diet, though it might have been too indulgent if Theo knew Hobie. The dog could die at any moment and he would have lived a long and eventful life. The thought of Boris not getting one last chance to see him, to say goodbye, was inconceivable. If Popper was Theo’s then he was just as much Boris’. “Do you want to see him?”

* * *

“Popchyk,” Boris called as he made his way over to the little bed in the corner of the kitchen where the dog sat up, ears perked at the sound of his name. In a quick swoop, Boris had bundled Popper up into his arms. He pressed a smattering of kisses against the top of the dog’s head. Popper yipped and yapped softly the whole time, licking at Boris’ fingers and panting in his arms.

“You’ve always spoiled that dog,” Theo said, unable to keep the smile off his face as he watched Boris smother Popper with love.

“Their lives are too short, they deserve to be spoiled,” Boris replied as he opened the fridge, obviously looking for something to feed to the dog. Theo reached over and closed it with one hand. “Sorry my love, your father wants you to starve,” he said to the dog, pouting as he spoke, Theo rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” Theo muttered and lightly smacked Boris up the side of the head.

“Oh, hello Boris,” Hobie said, stopping in the doorway to look between them. Boris was probably connected to Theo’s imminent misery in Hobie’s mind, which explained the small look of worry that slid over his face and then straight off to be replaced by a cordial smile. The homely kitchen suddenly felt three sizes too small.

“Hello Mr. Hobie,” Boris said, turning on the charm, whiter than white teeth shining under the warm kitchen light, “you are well I hope?”

“Yes, very well, and you?” Hobie said, nodding softly as he spoke. He plucked a towel from the oven rail and wiped his hands on it.

“Am always in good mood when the baby is in my arms,” Boris said and gave Popper another kiss.

“He’s bit old to be called a baby,” Theo said with a sneer.

“He is getting on in years,” Hobie said with a frown as he stared at Popper.

“Old man now,” Boris murmured as he set the dog back down onto its bed, though he couldn’t resist patting Popper’s head before he stood again.

“You boys want tea?” Hobie asked as he filled the kettle.

“No, we’re fine,” Theo said, hand held out in front of him, awkward smile pressed to his face but Boris spoke over him.

“Yes, of course.” 

Hobie looked between them, his eyes landed on Theo, as though he was the one in control of this situation. Theo never felt in control when it came to Boris.

“We’ll have some tea Hobie, thanks,” Theo said and finally shrugged off his coat, he draped it over the back of one of the chairs. He stared right at Boris and made a show of sitting down.

“You in town on business Boris?” Hobie asked, setting up the tea with his back to them.

“Not quite,” Boris said, nonchalant, as he sat down next to Theo. Their knees were pressed together under the table, though there was enough space for them to spread out. It was the way it always was with them.

“Hmm?” Hobie hummed and threw a quick glance at Boris over his shoulder.

“Business is just excuse to see Theo,” Boris said, smiling as dropped his hand onto Theo’s shoulder and gave it a rough squeeze.

Theo’s mouth went dry and he couldn’t do anything but swallow. That was when he realised that he hadn’t told anyone about how they’d been talking practically non-stop for the last few months. He was always on his phone these days, surely someone had noticed, Hobie had probably noticed. Maybe he’d put two and two together. Maybe this was why people keep commenting on how much happier he looked these days, maybe it was why Hobie had stopped asking if he was okay and why Pippa hadn’t called.

“Though I do have business,” Boris added after too long of a moment, Theo was almost certain Boris had done it just to make him squirm. It was hard to tell if Boris was lying or not. Theo just did what he usually did, acted as though Boris was telling the truth unless given reason to think otherwise.

They hung around chatting for a couple hours. Theo eventually unclenched and joined in on the conversation that was flowing between Boris and Hobie. The time passed quickly enough, Hobie and Boris spoke about history, art, philosophy and literature, Theo interjected every now and then but he didn’t find himself needing to fill the air. Eventually they left, around dinner time, as Hobie had a prior engagement and Theo didn’t want to intrude, especially with Boris.

It was out of character for Hobie not to invite him to dinner. Theo supposed that the other people present wouldn’t take Boris’ company too kindly, or maybe Hobie was simply giving them time alone together. Theo didn’t like the way that thought stuck like gum to the inside of his brain. Was it obvious? Theo wondered.

Was what obvious?

Nothing was happening, nothing had happened and nothing was going to happen. Well, nothing was going to happen as far as anyone else was concerned, Theo himself was undecided as to what he thought might happen or what he wanted to happen.

The words he’d scrawled down on that scrap of paper came to the forefront of his mind, he batted them away with the wave of his hand, like he was dispelling smoke.

* * *

They took a cab back to Theo’s apartment. Memories of the last time they’d come through his door flashed in his mind, Theo stiffly removed his coat and moved through the apartment. There were too many things on his mind for him to act truly natural. Though he doubted that he ever managed to act natural around Boris, that just seemed to be the true nature of things.

“I just have to get something,” Theo muttered as he strode into his bedroom.

He didn’t close the door behind him, because that would be suspicious, but he didn’t leave it wide open either. He left the door ajar, a happy middle ground as Theo’s pulse began to stutter against his temple.

Slipping his tie off as he made his way around the bed. Theo slipped the legal pad with his latest attempt at writing on it into the bedside draw and left the tie beside the lamp. Hiding again, but for better reasons, at least that was what he told himself. He wasn’t ready for Boris to see what he’d written.

He wasn’t ready for Boris to see what he’d written the last time he was there either.

Before Boris could come crashing in, whining that Theo was taking too much time, he fumbled his beaten up copy of Conversational Russian for that one class he’d failed out off from where he kept it. He kept it behind the headboard with Boris’ old Civics book. Theo was sentimental down to a fault.

He came out of the room to find Boris rummaging around his cupboards. Theo paid it no mind. He moved over toward the couch and dropped the book onto the coffee table, his heart was in his throat as he again thought about what had happened the last time Boris was in his apartment. The good, the bad and the ugly. The not entirely wild night that slid into bliss, the morning where Theo recoiled from Boris’ touch, the time where he could have stopped him from leaving and didn’t.

“What are you looking for?” Theo asked, coming up beside Boris, swallowing down the memories.

“You have no food,” Boris stated, closing the cupboard for extra emphasis, “eating all take out, is bad for you,” he said, shaking his head at Theo, like he was the peak of physical fitness.

“I don’t just eat take-out Boris, I just haven’t had time to get groceries,” Theo explained, hands on his hips as he stared at the other, though halfway through he got a little self-conscious and stood straighter.

“You cook?”

“I cooked while we were in Vegas,” Theo said, he stepped forward to stop Boris from opening the fridge, hand around Boris’ wrist. Boris stared up at him, smiling, as though he was about to make some sort of comment. “I made edible food for the both us,” he added, poking at Boris’ chest with his finger.

“We cooked together,” Boris said. He made no move to get out of Theo’s hold, to remove the other’s hand from his wrist. He never did and he never would, Theo knew because he was the same.

“Once,” Theo said holding his hand up in front of Boris’ face. He let go of Boris and opened the fridge himself, it was practically empty like he knew it would be.

“It was good,” Boris said firmly, as though it was a stated fact.

“We didn’t even eat it,” Theo said it with a dry laugh. The memory was harsh and hollow, if Theo could go back, then he would have stayed with Boris. There were so many moments he could say that about and it would be true for all of them. He should have stayed with Boris.

The sun was low in the early evening. It was low enough to shine through Theo’s window, low enough to shine through Boris’ loose curls. Theo got lost in the way the light gleamed across Boris’ skin. Dark eyes glued to Theo’s face, they stood out stark against his pale skin. He looked like one of those waifish tortured men in a Caravaggio painting. Theo felt the urge to pull the arrows out of his body.

“Maybe we should cook now,” Boris said pulling Theo from his thoughts, though his voice was low enough to let Theo know that what he’d been thinking had shown on his face.

“Have you got short term memory loss?” Theo returned, heart stuttering in his chest, breath coming short. “You just looked in my cupboards. I haven’t got anything to make anything with,” he said, and closed the fridge, the humming was getting on his nerves.

“We go out, get food, come back and cook food,” Boris said, stepping a little further into Theo personal space, until there were only a few inches between them. “Sounds like plan eh?” He said, looking up into Theo’s eyes, smiling the smile that had started so many lost nights.

Theo didn’t even think about arguing.

* * *

They dipped into the nearest grocery store. It was a small place with dim lights that reminded Theo of the place that he and Boris had routinely stolen things from back in Vegas. The fluorescents buzzed, ticked and thrummed, obviously at the end of their life. It made Theo wince. He was probably going to get a headache from just being in there. Usually he went to a different store down a couple more blocks. It was a little higher class and they changed their bulbs regularly. It probably also had something to do with the memories it pulled to the front of his mind.

Theo plucked up a basket from the front of the store. Boris b-lined straight for the wine, inspecting each bottle as though they weren’t going to get three bottles of whatever was under $15 and seemed okay. It didn’t matter, they were both going to be wasted by the end of the night.

Boris surprised him by picking up a $30 bottle of rosé, he dropped it into the basket, almost throwing Theo off balance.

“What do you want to make?” Theo asked, frowning at Boris as he followed the other down the aisle.

“How about steak?” Boris said, smiling over his shoulder at Theo. A joke, it was a special joke between just the two of them, it sent sparks through Theo’s veins. He shook his head as he continued to follow Boris.

* * *

It was bitingly cold when they stepped back out onto the street. If Theo had a free hand, he would have flicked his collar up and held his coat closer to himself, instead he hunched and leaned forward as he trudged down the street back to his apartment building.

Butternut squash, parsnips, red onions, garlic, hazelnuts, sage, rocket, balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, honey, virgin olive oil, sirloin steaks and ice cream littered the kitchen counter. How they’d found it all in that tiny store with blistered linoleum was beyond him. Theo put away the ice cream.

“We’re really going to use all of this,” Theo said dubiously as he stared at the assortment of ingredients laid out before them.

“I found recipe online,” Boris said and passed Theo his phone.

He swiped through the recipe, it didn’t seem too hard but it was almost out of his comfort zone, he had definitely never cooked hazelnuts before.

“This takes like an hour,” Theo whined, he was hungry, he hated cooking when he was hungry.

“Ah, but Potter we are together, time will fly by,” Boris said, smiling as he pulled open the draws and cupboards, piling the kitchen counter with pans and utensils until there wasn’t any space left.

Theo rolled his sleeves up to his he elbows. He didn’t miss the way that Boris watched him do it, but he wasn’t going to mention it, if he did then they’d never get to eat. He turned the oven on to heat up.

Boris kept his jacket on as he chopped vegetables. Theo tried not to watch him, watching Boris do anything always prodded at the pedant inside him. There was also another reason that Theo didn’t want to watch him though he didn’t want to think about it.

The lighting was different, but Theo was pretty sure that he’d catch himself staring at Boris and thinking about romantic works of art, just like he’d done earlier and as a child. Theo had always tried to convince himself that it was all normal. Had tried to excuse how he felt and thought about Boris. Everything he did was an effort to be normal and never be seen as not normal, and the difference between those two things was loving his best friend. At least that was what Theo had told himself.

He had never examined himself, what he really felt about anything, mostly because he was scared of what he might discover. Though he had already discovered these things, he just wasn’t willing to validate them. Why ignoring everything about himself, about the way he felt, was so important was beyond Theo. He was a little too preoccupied with not messing up the dinner.

Boris flicked him hard on the side of the head. Theo gasped and almost dropped the bag of hazelnuts he’d been holding.

“What the fuck was that for?” Theo asked, brows furrowed as he rubbed the side of his head, turning toward Boris.

“You are thinking too hard,” Boris said, knife thankfully forgotten on the cutting board, “is bad omen when you go quiet,” he went on, a hard serious look on his face. And Theo knew he was thinking about Vegas, thinking about all the times Theo had blacked out and begged Boris to let him go, to let him go and meet his mother. Theo swallowed.

“Sure,” Theo drew out as he put the hazelnuts down and began to fiddle with the pans on the hob, doing something with his hands so that his eyes wouldn’t wander as much as his mind did.

“Talk Potter,” Boris urged, nudging Theo with his elbow, “something is on your mind.”

“It’s not important,” Theo muttered, though it might be one of the most important things between them.

“If it’s not important it should be easy to say, yes?” Boris asked, staring up at Theo, eyes illuminated softly by Theo’s shitty dollar store bulbs.

Theo thought about lying, he thought about not lying, he thought about telling the truth for once. Instead he did what he always did, deflected and avoided.

“Boris,” Theo groaned. “Can we just make dinner, I’m fucking starving,” he said, and plucked Boris’ phone off of the counter and skimmed his eyes over the recipe.

“You’re hungry,” Boris said and yet made no move to do anything, instead he continued to stare at Theo.

“Of course I’m hungry, that’s what I just said,” Theo replied, irritated, Boris’ phone still held in his grasp.

“You’re upset because you’re hungry,” Boris said. He was smiling up at Theo, light dancing on his too white teeth.

If he was ten years younger, the jab would have easily wound him up, the mere suggestion that he was grumpy because he hadn’t eaten. He’d hated any suggestion that he wasn’t entirely in control of himself, that he didn’t know who he was. In hindsight it might have bothered him because it was all true. He wasn’t in control and he barely knew who he was now.

Theo saw what it for what it really was, a way out of the conversation and an acknowledgement that Theo was avoiding him.

“Right, that must be it,” Theo said, sarcastically, and reached for the knife left on the cutting board.

They went on with the preparations, letting the topic slide as Boris recounted a story from one his escapades from his wild life, leaving out key parts that left Theo thinking that the story might not be as cheery as Boris was trying to make it out to be. It didn’t matter. It never mattered whether Boris’ stories were true or not or mixture of both, it was just nice to listen to Boris speak so animatedly. The cadence of his voice was comforting.

The television played in the background as they stayed between the couch and Theo’s kitchenette, talking about everything and nothing, simply filling the air between them as they waited for the food to be done. Theo kept a watchful eye on it progress. Boris prodded at him, called him paranoid and butchered the phrase ‘a watched pot never boils’ every time he peered into the oven.

Eventually the food was done. They sat on the couch and ate in near silence, Theo practically inhaled his food, eyes rolling back into his head at first bite.

They shared two glasses of the rosé between them. Theo danced on the edge of pleasantly buzzed as they critiqued the TV movie they were barely paying attention to, facing each other on the couch, empty plates discarded across spare papers and the Conversational Russian textbook Theo had forgotten to say anything about atop the coffee table. Their knees touched as they leaned toward each other. Theo was mid-sentence when Boris crossed the short distance between them and kissed him.

It was the first time since he was fifteen that Boris had kissed him sober, or at least as sober as either of them ever got. Theo wondered if he’d ever work up the nerve to kiss Boris first. He was too in his head to even notice the way Boris’ hands were creeping up his legs, crawling between them, saying something that Theo couldn’t hear or couldn’t understand.

This was dangerous, every fibre of Theo’s being was screaming at him to run, but he’d never really quite managed to run away from Boris, he always came back.

“Stay here,” Boris murmured against Theo’s lips, “with me, is only me,” he went on, pulling Theo back into the room.

The words pulled at his heartstrings. They undid memories that had been folded away for Theo to ignore, the nights he’d woken up crying and whimpering for his mother, feeling like he was falling into oblivion. That was until Boris caught him, whispering words into his skin. He curled his hands into fists at his sides, pressed them hard against the couch.

Theo opened his mouth for Boris, really feeling him for the first time, and Boris dropped against him. Their bodies were flush together. Theo felt suffocated, heat crawled all over his skin, he felt like he was about to faint.

Before he could faint, Boris clambered off of him, fingers caught around Theo’s wrist as he pulled him up off the couch with him. Theo braced himself against Boris. Uncertainty danced in his eyes, words of trepidation stuck to the tip of his tongue. He was almost ready drop back down onto the couch and pretend that nothing had happened, but then he caught the look in Boris’ eyes, there was a childlike hopefulness in them and Theo couldn’t have pulled away if he tried.

He let Boris lead him toward his bedroom. The thought that he hadn’t done anything suddenly swept over his mind. He’d only been passive, just like he remembered being last time, and what did that say about his enthusiasm to Boris? Sure, he was following the other into his bedroom, had let him kiss him, but what did that mean?

Did it mean more? Did he want this to mean more? Did he want this to exist outside of his bedroom? Could it exist outside of his bedroom? Or would he sabotage it before they made it back to the couch or before they could make it out of the room in the morning?

Theo stopped dead in his tracks. He stopped so suddenly and it pulled Boris back, his shoulder slammed against Theo’s chest. Boris turned toward him slightly. There was a near pleading look in his eyes, like he was begging Theo not to pull away. Theo put his hands on Boris’ shoulders and leaned down to press their heads together. It only took a slight movement, the slide of their noses, and Boris was kissing him again. He wasn’t going anywhere.

They fumbled their way into the bedroom and onto the bed, fingers on each other’s shirts, pushing the fabric down and off of each other’s shoulders.

Boris’ hand curled around Theo hip, held him down as though he were a flight risk, and he figured he was. The fingers of Boris’ other hand slipped into his underwear and wrapped around him. Theo tilted his head back with a low sigh. He closed his eyes and blindly grabbed at Boris, his hand slid between Boris’ legs, he could feel Boris through the shiny fabric of his pants.

“Open your eyes,” Boris murmured and Theo obliged.

It was easier to undo Boris’ pants with them open anyway. Though his eyes caught on Boris’ blown pupils, they were dark enough that Theo could almost convince himself that he saw his reflection in them.

Eventually his fingers found their way inside Boris’ boxers. Boris was warm and hard against his palm, Theo’s mouth went dry even as Boris’ tongue dipped inside, groaning into the other’s mouth. The first thought that crossed his mind was that Boris felt different. This wasn’t the first time they’d touched each other since Vegas, but Theo had done his best to stay out of his head and in the moment, lose himself in the one thing he’d wanted for as long as he could remember wanting things.

They moaned into the small space between them, foreheads pressed together as Boris thrust into his fist. Theo had never been this present in any of his sexual interactions. Their free hands were laced together against the mattress. Theo’s eyes caught on the way their fingers looked entwined, pressed hard enough to dip into the sheets, it was passionate desire and Theo lost himself to that fire.

* * *

They passed the cigarette between them and Theo indulgently thought of the Sistine chapel, Adam and God grazing fingertips, Michelangelo lying on his scaffolding hating every second of it. 

“Tell me the truth,” Theo started and Boris’ eyes flicked swiftly toward his face, fear and intrigue danced in the shine of his dark eyes, “do you really have a wife?”

Boris burst into laughter, curling up in the sheets as it took over him, Theo snatched the cigarette from between his fingers. He jabbed his fingers in the space between Boris’ ribs, Boris yelped as he shrunk back.

“What? Potter it is truth, I never had wife or kids, you know,” Boris said, it was as plainly as it could have been stated, “I only have you and few others,” he added, going still against the mattress as he stared up at Theo.

Sometimes Theo wondered if he’d inherited his mothers’ taste in men.

The lying, the constant unending lying or avoidance of the truth that left Theo feeling as though he were chasing ghosts through empty halls in some sort of labyrinth. His father had lied to save face, to get what he wanted, to avoid the consequences of what he’d really done. Theo had a feeling that Boris lied for very similar reasons.

He hadn’t lied about The Goldfinch. Boris had gone out of his way to make it better, to make it up to Theo, and it was clear that doing it meant a whole lot to Boris. Theo’s father never would have done that.

If anything, Theo was more like his father than Boris was. He lied for the same reasons, but most people lied for those reasons, he was probably just blowing everything way out of proportion. Theo lied through his teeth constantly just to make things easier for everyone around him and himself. Though he was trying to be better about it.

He’d mostly stopped lying to Hobie, at least about the important things. There were no more fraudulent deals in the shop, no more risky business deals, no more swindling. Theo stopped playing with their livelihoods and gambling with his career. Though he didn’t mention the things that kept him up at night, the things that shot through his mind in the darkness, the things that made him look over his shoulder when he was alone. Besides Boris, Hobie knew him better than anyone.

Theo had worked hard to change things, to change himself, but lying was something that everyone did.

He lied to Mrs. Barbour because she didn’t need to worry about him, and she had enough to deal with as it was. It was easier on both of them that way. He lied to Kitsey because it wasn’t any of her business. He lied to Pippa because she knew and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. He lied to anyone who asked him about his life because he knew they didn’t really care to hear the real answer.

Theo lied to Boris about the most important thing, but Boris lied about it too though less dramatically.

He wasn’t worried about his taste in men anymore. His mother had made that one mistake, he’d forgiven her for it long ago, and without it he wouldn’t be alive. Theo had made plenty of his own.

“I don’t really have anyone either, besides you and Hobie,” Theo said and passed the cigarette back to Boris.

They were nothing like their parents, for better and for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, for all the kudos and comments, it really means a lot to me. xx


	5. Noon.

“ **My heart only ever had one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all...All my heart has ever wanted is you.** ” _― Stephanie Laurens, The Edge of Desire._

* * *

The morning light softly caressed Boris’ body, cast in rays through the frame of the window. The sight had Theo thinking of art again. Thinking about brushstrokes, oil and light and dark, it was enough to have him think about grabbing his phone just to snap a picture, but the framing would never be right and the camera on the phone wasn’t good enough to capture it properly. Nothing could capture the sight before him properly.

After a few moments of lying there, watching Boris breathe, the gentle warmth he’d been feeling slid away. It felt like someone had pulled the blankets off of him, leaving him cold. The morning was here and Theo was doing his best to stay in the bed and not run to the bathroom. He didn’t have the excuse of a hangover anymore, not that Boris had ever believed the hangover bullshit, and not that Theo had ever really put any effort into the excuse.

He couldn’t run away, that wasn’t an option anymore.

What was he going to do when Boris woke up? What was he going to say? Should he say anything? Did they need to talk about this? Did they need to talk about all the times that they hadn’t talked about it? Theo’s head was spinning and he felt a headache coming on, it was almost like a real hangover.

Maybe things weren’t so perfect. Maybe it all just looked so nice because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Maybe he was destroying everything before it had the chance to fall apart.

Theo groaned and pressed his head into the pillow. He needed to get out of his head and stop worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet. There were a lot of people out there that didn’t get as worked up about this as he did, they just rolled out of bed and got on with their day, no nausea and no fear. Well maybe some fear, but that just made them brave, unlike Theo. 

In a way, Theo supposed that he had been robbed of growing up to be well adjusted. Maybe in a parallel universe there was a different Theodore Decker that was okay with who he was, maybe there was a version of him that wasn’t so royally fucked up, though Theo struggled to imagine it. It was hard to imagine his life without Boris.

They never got the chance to become who they wanted to be. They never got the chance to even fantasise about who they might become, whether they’d be rock stars, vets, accountants, stock brokers, movie stars, directors, writers, adventurers, journalists or any of the other dreams that normal kids had.

The future wasn’t something that either of them could acknowledge existing. It was dangerous to dream. All Theo did was dream and all it did was hurt.

Now they were living that future, far beyond anything they dared to think when they were kids. Theo couldn’t remember thinking any further than the next day. Nowadays Theo was much the same. It had fucked them up, it had fucked them up to the point where they couldn’t plan for any kind of future, and they could only see a few yards ahead of them.

It infected their whole lives. Boris the risk taker, always so alive otherwise what was the point of living? Every moment was special, every moment was an opportunity. Everything was intense and fresh. Boris was always falling in love with the last person he’d slept with, always having the best meal of his life, meeting amazing people, reading the best books, watching movies that exposed him to new ways of thought and having the best high of his life. It was full of goodness, so enjoyable that there wasn’t enough time or space for sadness.

Sometimes Theo envied Boris. Wished he could live life so freely, wished he could stop caring about what everyone thought about him, so he could finally be himself. Other times it terrified Theo. Those faded track marks were the sign of only one kind of cleanness, who knew what Boris was putting into his body. The deep dark circles and the wax like nature of his skin spoke to a kind of neglect that Theo was woefully familiar with. Sometimes he felt like Boris could drop dead at any minute, any time that Theo wasn’t looking at him. Sometimes Theo thought that Boris was full of shit.

Boris had spent his life worrying about whether Theo hated him or not. Boris had lied about having a family, about having a wife and kids, for some reason that Theo could hardly fathom but was probably closer to the ways in which Theo lied than he’d like to think. Boris had kissed him as he waited for the taxi. Boris had saved his life more times than either of them could count and definitely more times than Theo would ever remember. Boris had said that they’d go back to his apartment in Antwerp take drugs, go out drinking and get girls when all they’d really done was sit in his shitty cold apartment watching movies and eating food straight out of the can while Theo sweated out his fever.

Still, even if Boris was full of shit, he’d done a whole lot more living than Theo ever had. And maybe it was time that he started.

Theo shifted forward and reached out for Boris, though he didn’t have to move far, they’d never slept in the same bed without touching. He slipped his ankle between Boris’ and dropped his arm over the other’s chest. His nose was against the crook of Boris’ neck, he breathed in deep and swallowed the rough taste of him, black curls dropped over his brow as Boris moved in his grasp.

He’d never slept better than he did beside Boris. It had been true when they were kids and it was still true now. He wasn’t asleep though, he was awake and his mind was still spinning away from him. Wild speculation, his personal specialty, self destruction.

The thoughts he’d had the night before returned with a vengeance.

Did this really mean something, to either of them? Obviously it meant something to Theo, otherwise he wouldn’t have written that note and he wouldn’t still be trying to work it all out on a legal pad that was burning a hole in his draw. Whether or not he really wanted it to mean more than just something they did together in the dark was the real question. He did, probably, definitely.

Maybe it could exist outside the apartment, outside of Theo’s little sanctuary. Maybe it could live under the scrutiny of others. Boris had never really cared what anyone thought about him. Theo did and he didn’t. Keeping up appearances had been a large part of his life, but what did it really matter if his life had fallen apart regardless? 

Theo didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that was between them. He wanted to give it the chance to blossom into something else, wanted to have the opportunity to put the effort into one of his relationships. His relationship with Hobie wasn’t a disaster, but he’d had to do a lot of clean up to keep it that way, that and Hobie was ridiculously understanding. Every other relationship he had was tenuous, strained, barely there.

This, whatever it was between him and Boris, was easy. Maybe it wasn’t as easy as most people’s comfortable relationship, but he and Boris were fucked up in a lot of different ways that made their relationship different from most. And Theo didn’t make it easy, but that was all in his head, it was something he was struggling against. Despite all that, it was without a doubt the easiest relationship either of them had ever had.

“I know you’re awake,” Theo murmured, lips moving against Boris’ skin. He could feel Boris’ heartbeat through the tips of his fingers.

He lifted his head to find of Boris smiling, though his eyes were still closed.

“Can a man not lie in bed with his eyes closed?” Boris said, his arm moved up and around Theo’s back, he cracked an eye open before he spoke again. “Is this a crime now?”

“I just wanted you to know that I know,” Theo said. Unable to stop the smile from spreading across his lips as he stared down at Boris, balanced up on his elbow.

It was nice. It was probably the nicest morning he had ever had. A slicked twist of guilt dropped into his stomach at the thought, as though he was betraying his mother’s memory. For a moment he wanted to pull away. He wanted to leap off of the bed as though he’d been burned, as though no moment he lived was ever allowed to be better than the ones he’d lived before his mother’s death.

Theo stayed where he was, by sheer force of will, with his hand still over Boris’ heart.

Boris leaned up slightly while also pressing gently on Theo’s back and kissed him. It was just a simple kiss. Though there was something else beneath it, it was a test, making sure that Theo wasn’t going to fall back into his old ways and pretend that none of this had happened. Theo supposed that he’d passed from the way Boris was smiling up at him.

He wanted to kiss that smile, but he didn’t. It was still incredibly difficult for him to initiate things. The fear of a rejection he knew wasn’t coming kept him pulled back, held at a short distance from Boris. Instead he watched Boris and waited for the other to make a move.

Those dark curls fell across his face, ink swirling into milk, it made Boris look as young as he really was. The dark circles only made his eyes stand out. Theo was so thankful that he was close enough to see the flecks of colour in Boris’ eyes without his glasses. Boris turned his head slightly and the light cast across his brow, making the scar shine, it stirred something in Theo’s stomach. He ran his thumb over the scar.

If time travel was ever invented or if Theo ever had the opportunity, he would go back and pull those children out of the desert. Though it wouldn’t have changed much about their future, the sight of that scar always made him a little overprotective, but he’d been there and watched it happen so he felt responsible. The guilt of a child struggling against something they could do nothing about. He knew there was nothing he could have done, even if he had intervened that night it didn’t stop it from happening when he wasn’t there, he might have made it worse even.

Theo hadn’t thought about it at the time. He doubted that he could have bared to consider the thought back then, he was hardly holding himself together at the time, any more pressure might have torn him apart. It must have been kicking about in the back of his mind somewhere though. Boris’ father could have killed him, if what Theo had seen that night was anything to go by, then Boris could have died and the only person who would have given even half a fuck would be Theo.

It was a horrible thing to think about especially on so nice a morning.

“What are you thinking Potter?” Boris asked as he caught Theo’s hand, which was still pressed to the scar above his brow, sliding their fingers together until they were laced.

“I’m thinking about you,” Theo murmured, he leaned down and pressed his face against Boris’ neck just to feel the other’s pulse. Their hands still intertwined held against the pillow above their heads.

“No need to disappear to think about me when I am here with you now, yes?” Boris said, he ran his thumb over Theo’s knuckles reassuringly.

Theo hummed and shuffled closer to Boris, as much as that was possible, their bodies were flush together. The hand against Theo’s back moved softly against his skin. Slightly calloused fingers ran over his spine, making him shiver and sigh, lips still pressed to Boris’ pulse. Boris was alive, he could feel it and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Eventually they managed to get out of bed. It took a great amount of effort since they weren’t willing to stop touching each other for even a moment, which meant that Theo almost fell on his ass when his foot got caught up in the sheets. At least it meant that Boris was there to catch him.

This time, when they made their way into the bathroom it was together instead of Boris finding him on his knees in front of the toilet dry heaving.

The bathroom really was cramped, especially with the two of them. They were no longer boys and the shower in his apartment wasn’t separate from the bathtub. Still they managed to climb into the tub together. Hands on each other, Theo almost forgot to switch on the water, so lost in the feel Boris against him.

For a while they let the water run between them as they clung to each other. Theo’s knees almost buckled when Boris wrapped a hand around his thigh, digging his fingers into the pulse that ran down the inside of his leg, the sensation shot straight to his groin.

Then the water ran cold. Theo gasped sharply and Boris started laughing, muttered about the shower cock blocking him.

“Fuck,” Theo breathed in a shudder as Boris kissed the goose flesh rising up his arm. He laughed as Boris stared up at him, light dancing in his eyes and goose flesh spreading out over his chest, and Boris kissed him hard enough to knock his teeth out.

They washed fast, hoping to get out of the water as quick as possible. Laughing like little kids, high and giddy as they did nothing more than stand under the water and smack each other with lotion covered hands, pretending that there wasn’t anything to it. They weren’t pretending now, they weren’t even wearing their underwear.

They brushed their teeth side by side, elbows bumping together. Theo remembered a time in Vegas when they had done the same and Boris had spat toothpaste at him, he remembered the way it had slid down his glasses and dripped onto his cheek as Boris laughed hysterically beside him.

The past and the present were sliding together. Theo guessed this happened to people who had known each other for a long time, that things they did together reminded them of other things they’d done together. It was a testament to the longevity of their connection.

* * *

Theo never used the breakfast table. He hated it but he hadn’t gotten rid of it because it somehow reminded him of Boris. The cheap vinyl topped wonky piece of furniture had probably been used to cut cocaine on or something similar and when Theo had first cleaned it a stench of cigarettes and vodka had risen up into his nose. He couldn’t throw it out after that. The only adjustment to it he had made was to slip a folded up Chinese menu under one of the legs.

It seemed fitting that Boris would take up that spot as Theo made coffee. Theo himself hardly ever sat there. He certainly didn’t eat his breakfast there, if he was going out then Theo would almost certainly have breakfast out, and if he wasn’t going anywhere then he didn’t usually make it out of bed before noon.

He watched Boris light a cigarette. The morning light was filtered through thick clouds and painted Boris in grey tones. It reminded Theo of harsh dramas about working class people, it reminded him of movies he didn’t know how to enjoy, and he could have stood there for the full two hours and twenty minute run time staring at Boris. Theo slid a small plate under Boris’ hand to catch the ash before setting their coffees down.

Theo made toast, scraping out what little peanut butter was left in the jar. The scent of smoke drifted over toward Theo. He wondered if Boris was looking out the window or if Boris was looking at him, staring at his three quarter profile as he spread the peanut butter on their toast. He didn’t dare look back. Though he didn’t know whether it was because he was afraid that he would find Boris staring or that he’d find him gazing out the window.

When he did finally turn, toast in hand, it was to find Boris staring at him. Boris had this dreamy smile spread across his mouth. This time Theo knew that it was butterflies he felt in his stomach, the sight made him stutter in his movements as he made his way toward the table.

He set the plates down and sat opposite Boris. Their knees touched under the small table, Theo leaned into it, elbows on the tabletop as he chewed on his toast.

“When are you leaving?” Theo asked. Maybe someone else would take it the wrong way, think that he was hoping they’d leave as soon as possible, but he knew Boris knew better.

“Why? You want to keep me here Potter, ply me with coffee and bread until I’m too fat to leave, hmm?” Boris said, chuckling to himself. With his cigarette still caught between his fingers, he munched on his toast and sipped at his coffee.

“I wanna know how much time I’ve got,” Theo said, it was as close as he dared to get to what he actually wanted to say. He swallowed and he watched Boris, waiting for the other’s reply.

He could already feel the time ticking away, liking sand slipping between his fingers.

Boris didn’t say anything for a long time, it was starting to make Theo worry, and he couldn’t quite read the look in Boris’ eyes. Eventually, Boris put the cigarette out on the small plate Theo had left for him. He moved back in his seat slightly and pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket. He laid it out on the table between them, flattening it with care before he pushed it toward Theo. The toast shook in Theo’s hands, or more accurately, Theo’s hands shook. He put his slice of toast back down on his plate. Theo knew what it was without looking at it.

“Life is too short to be waiting Theo,” Boris said, voice steadily even as though he was worried that he’d spook Theo. Given their history, Theo didn’t blame him, he was always a flight risk.

Theo swallowed at the sound of his given name coming off of Boris’ tongue.

“I’m not waiting,” he muttered. Brows furrowed as he continued to stare down at the scrap of paper, the loopy girly writing made him self-conscious.

“Then what are we doing?”

Theo felt as though his mouth was full of honey, tarring his jaw closed, sticking the words to his tongue. He wanted so badly to be brave. He dropped his hands and rose from the table, chairs scrapping against the floor. It felt like it took him years to walk round that table, and in a way it had taken him just over ten, and it felt like no time at all until he was stood before Boris. He brought his hands up to Boris’ face as he bent down. Their lips met in a kiss unlike most that they had share. It was a kiss much like the one Boris had pressed upon him on that night in Las Vegas, a kiss full of meaning finally returned after too many years.

“I’ve always loved you,” Theo murmured against Boris’ lips, foreheads pressed together.

“I have loved you too, always,” Boris replied, his fingers curled around the back of Theo’s neck, holding him there.

The position was not entirely uncomfortable but it was awkward to hold for too long. Bent over Boris, one hand braced on the back of the chair and the other pressed hard down upon the table, it was starting to make his back ache but he was too happy to really care all that much about it. He could hardly believe his luck.

Things like this weren’t supposed to happen for people like him or for people like Boris either, and there were still a lot of doubts on his mind. How this was going to work out wasn’t clear.

“Don’t worry about the future Theo, stay here with me,” Boris muttered as he tugged at Theo’s hips and gently but firmly guided Theo into his lap. One knee barely found leverage in the small space between Boris’ ass and the back of the chair, while the other was pressed hard between Boris’ legs. Theo was straddling him. “Will deal with tomorrow when we get there, yes?” Boris said, leaning back slightly to stare into Theo’s eyes.

“Fuck the future,” Theo muttered harshly and pressed their lips together, fingers caught in Boris’ wild hair, he kissed him with abandon.

* * *

The wind moved through the thin sheets of the curtains, making them float gently away from the floor. Spring air drifted in through the open windows. The apartment Boris had rented for their stay was wildly extravagant that it almost made Theo embarrassed to be there. There was an actual chaise longue that was probably a couple hundred years old, Theo didn’t dare check properly, especially considering the things he and Boris had done upon it.

They only managed to see each other once a month at most, and that was mostly due to Boris coming to New York. It was rare that Theo was able to visit Boris wherever he happened to be. With the way things were, it was difficult to get the funds together to account for the time he’d be away, let alone get a plane ticket. It had been a tough few years.

Popper had died. Boris came straight from wherever he was, it was either Belgium or Berlin Theo hadn’t quite caught it when Boris had said it. He and Hobie had waited for Boris to arrive before they did anything with Popper’s little white body. They’d had the remains cremated. Boris had sniffed and wiped his eyes, trying hard not to show how much it hurt him, when they got the small cardboard box wrapped in plastic. Hobie had openly cried, that silent stoic kind of crying that spoke of inner peace and security. Theo didn’t cry, he didn’t show anything outwardly on his face, though it had shocked him in a surprising way. It was almost like he’d expected Popper to outlive them all.

Even though he didn’t express any outward signs of distress, Boris had seen straight through it and despite his own grief, he had laced their hands together as they watched Hobie pour the ashes into an ornate urn. Thumb sliding softly over Theo’s knuckles.

After that, Hobie saw the complete nature of their relationship. He didn’t say anything about it and that was how Theo knew it was okay by Hobie, he knew it would be okay with Hobie just as long as things were fine.

And things were fine. Maybe that was surprising, maybe it wasn’t. Things weren’t perfect, they were far from it but Theo hadn’t expected anything between them to ever be perfect, but it was still better than he could have ever imagined. Sure there were times when Theo desperately wanted to see Boris. Times when he woke up in the middle of the night, gasping as tears streamed down his face, with a ringing in his ears and he wanted to be able to do more than just text Boris. There were times where he wished he could reach out and hold Boris. There were moments, short lived but still painful, where he wondered what Boris was doing without him. He didn’t believe that Boris would cheat on him, but he couldn’t completely wipe the doubt from his mind. Maybe Boris even thought about it too. The distance between them sometimes got too much to deal with, and Boris would sometimes be difficult to contact. It made him ache in ways he hadn’t ever dared to hope to ache.

They were together though. They were finally together and everything felt right with the world, this felt like more than Theo deserved and he’d gladly taken it. Their conversations were more open, Theo had never spoken to anyone more honestly, not even when he’d explained everything to Hobie. It was freeing. Their conversations spanned all the usual topics, but now the truth was laid bare between them, the veil had been pulled back and their conversations didn’t halt and stutter because Theo got uncomfortable anymore.

And they were able to be in the same place at the same time. Theo wasn’t always inside his head, worrying about what other people thought, paranoid as he scanned their surroundings for faces he might know. They didn’t exactly kiss in public but he wasn’t running away. He wasn’t running away anymore.

When they were together it was much like every other time they were together. There were less drugs and slightly less alcohol and more touching, heavy petting and wildly more kissing than they’d ever done before. They watched movies and argued about the meaning of books and life and everything. Laughing and throwing popcorn at each other. Leaning into each other as they spoke, flicking through a worn paper back for a quote that would prove whatever point they were trying to make, sat shoulder to shoulder against the bottom of the couch.

Given the circumstances, it was more than Theo could have dreamed of or could have hoped for.

Waking to the smell of fried toast, jam, pastry and coffee was hardly equal to waking up to the taste of Boris’ lips and the feeling of the other’s body against his. The combination of the two was frankly blissful. He slowly opened his eyes to find Boris draped over him, fully clothed where Theo was naked under the sheets, it was difficult to see anything else without his glasses on but Theo didn’t mind.

“Breakfast is here,” Boris murmured against Theo’s lips.

“Do you mean you or the food?” Theo asked, it was the closest he’d ever get to saying certain things out loud. Being together, finally allowing their relationship to be what it had always meant to be, didn’t undo two decades of repression. Baby steps, as the saying went, and Theo was staggering toward something slowly.

“Ah, Potter must be in a good mood to be making jokes,” Boris said, lips curled into a coy smile, a small huff of a laugh slipped between his teeth.

“A very good mood,” Theo said as he wrapped his arms around Boris and pressed his face into the other’s hair, Boris laughed against Theo’s neck.

“Food will get cold if we don’t eat it,” Boris said, leaning up away from Theo, whiter than white teeth showing as he continued to smile. “You will complain if you have to drink warm coffee,” he went on as he sat up, he lightly clapped his palm against Theo’s cheek.

“Okay, okay, I guess I can wait,” Theo muttered and sat up as Boris clambered off of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and reached for his glasses. Boris chuckles and dipped into the small kitchen, he clattered around in there for a minute or so before he returned.

Boris had one plate held in his hand and the other brace on his arm like a waiter as he had the cardboard take-out coffee cup stacked in his other hand. He put the coffee down on the bedside table, while Theo carefully took the plate off of Boris’ arm. Instead of walking around the bed and coming to sit next to Theo, Boris dropped onto the end of the bed and sat opposite him, smiling as he took a bite out of his greasy French toast.

Paris was not exactly as romantic as everyone made out, but Theo couldn’t deny that he felt romance in the air, but that might have had more to do with the company than the location. They could have been snowed in at a shitty motel in Lincoln Nebraska and Theo would have still felt the romance in the air.

Theo tore at the croissant with his teeth. Boris rubbed at Theo calf through the sheets, plate balance precariously on his lap, with a slice of toast hanging out of his mouth.

“What do you want to do today?” Boris asked, chewing with his mouth open. If it were anyone else, then Theo would have found it disgusting, but since it was Boris it was endearing and somewhat nostalgic.

Theo shrugged his shoulders. As nice as Paris was, it was a pretty crowded city and going sightseeing was pretty much out of the question. Boris had said that the pictures were better than seeing the monuments for yourself, the angle was always wrong and the lighting was never right. Theo knew that Boris was just trying to make him feel better. He didn’t really care what they did though. It was more than enough to just be with Boris, to spend time in each other’s company.

“We could find some shitty little theatre and watch a movie we won’t understand,” Theo suggested, delicately tearing at his croissant.

“French movies are full of sex,” Boris said with a smirk, signalling for Theo to pass him one of the coffees.

“That can’t be true,” Theo said as he passed the coffee to Boris, fingers sliding over each other in that casually intimate way, “there’s no way that every French movie has sex in it,” he added with conviction.

“If not sex then nudity,” Boris said flippantly, shrugging his shoulders as took a sip of his coffee.

“Sure,” Theo said with a curt nod. He smeared a piece of the croissant into the small pot of jam. Boris’ thumb was rubbing Theo’s calf in lazy circles, though you wouldn’t have known it from the way Boris had all but inhaled his toast.

“And how many international movies have you seen Potter?” Boris asked, a coy edge to the curve of his lips, painting Theo as the uncultured American.

“More than you think, probably,” Theo muttered, though that might not be true. He considered himself at least a little cultured. He knew about art and antiques, but so did a lot of rich people who only valued those things in a monetary or status signalling sense, Theo wasn’t like that but he’d been close. 

“Oh yes, very cultured,” Boris said, nodding condescendingly. He opened his own little pot of jam and scooped all of it out with his fingers. Theo watched as he ate it all in one go and took a large bite out of his croissant, Theo only had his soggy slice of toast left. “Most cultured American I know, can barely speak more than English,” he added, smiling still as he raised his eyebrows, flakes of pastry falling onto the bed sheets.

“How am I supposed to compete with you?” Theo returned with a sharp laugh.

“Is not competition, just truth,” Boris said and shrugged, setting aside his plate, reaching over Theo’s body to place it on the bedside table. He finished off his coffee as he loomed over Theo. “You going to finish your breakfast?” He asked, eyes hooded as he stared down at Theo, staring holes into his skin.

Theo took a small bite out of his slice of toast and chewed on it as slowly as he could. Boris slid off his jacket as he continued to watch Theo, eyes heavy upon Theo’s mouth as he went on chewing, and dropped the expensive fabric to the bare wooden floorboards. Eventually there wasn’t any toast left. Instead of paying outright attention to the way Boris was draped over his body or the way that he was still naked under the sheets, he moved onto his coffee and drank that as slowly as he could too.

The moment he pulled the coffee cup away from his lips, Boris took the cardboard out of his hands and threw it to the floor. Theo worried about any leftover dregs of coffee staining Boris’ jacket for a moment before his mouth was assaulted. Sometimes Boris kissed like he wanted to break Theo’s face. It reminded Theo of their childhood where any moment of intimacy was tainted with violence.

His fingers slid shakily over the buttons of Boris’ shirt. Revealing more alabaster skin as he went, sighing as Boris fumbled with the sheets, pulling them away until Theo was left on naked on top of the mattress, he kicked them to the other side of the bed without his mouth leaving Theo’s.

Theo’s eyes rolled back as Boris licked up his throat. He ran his hands up and down Boris’ back under the silk of his shirt, the feeling was luxurious and Theo didn’t want to feel anything but Boris and silk against him again. Their thighs slid together. With his fingers gripped at the back of Theo’s head, Boris held him still as he licked into Theo’s mouth and kissed him with abandon. They groaned into each other’s mouths, swapping sounds. Theo was achingly hard between them and he could feel that Boris was the same through his skin tight jeans.

A thrumming came from the bedside table across the other side of the bed, Boris’ side, the sound invaded their realm and tore Boris’ attention from Theo’s skin. Boris’ eyes flicked to the phone. He swiped it off of the bedside table and looked it, a frown tugged at his lips as he tsked. Theo’s heart sunk.

“Have got to go lyubimyy,” Boris said as he did up the buttons of his shirt and that milky skin disappeared from view again.

Theo stayed where he was and watched Boris gather his things, hopping on the spot as he pulled his boots on. He tried not to think about where Boris was going, what he’d be doing, who he’d be meeting and whether or not he’d come back. He tried not to think of Goodfellas or the countless other stories that portrayed the kind of life that it was glaringly obvious that Boris led.

He finished off his coffee. Boris came around to Theo’s side of the bed, fingers sliding into Theo’s hair as he bent down to kiss him so passionately that all the worries slipped out of Theo’s ear. He sighed when Boris pulled away.

“Will be as quick as I can, my love,” Boris promised with his lips upon Theo’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Theo said, forcing the words out of his mouth, “okay,” he nodded as Boris stepped back. He waited for the very last moment, as Boris was walking away toward the door, “you better come back.” Theo still struggled to say the things he wanted to say, he only managed to murmur it in the twilight, but he knew that Boris already knew especially from the quick reassuring glance before he left.

Things weren’t perfect, but they never could have been, and Theo was more than happy with what he had.

He didn’t do much while Boris was out. As soon as the door was closed, he clambered out of bed and took a shower, a long and hot shower as he worked out his own frustration. Fingers wrapped around himself. He wrote a little. He was still writing, to himself, about how he felt about everything that had been happening after the third biggest calamity of his life had passed. Three storms weathered in one life time. In one way he was horribly unlucky, though much of the last situation he had created for himself, and in another he was terrifically lucky. To think about his life in those terms would leave his head spinning. The writing made things easier to process and didn’t leave him dizzy.

When he admitted things to himself, things that had always been true, then it was easier to live and act freely. Even if he never said it aloud, at least he knew who he was. And at the very least, Boris knew who he was.

Then, as the sun was kissing the horizon, colour bleeding out over the buildings and into Theo’s eyes, Boris came back. He was no worse for wear than when he had left. When he was alone, when they were apart, Theo always tried his best not to imagine Boris bursting through the door covered in blood and his voice full of urgency, though it was easier to think of that than the alternative. Anything was easier to think about than the thought of Boris never coming back. Theo had already been there, he knew what he would do.

And they went easily back into that violence tinged romance. Yearning and desire mixed and heightened by their desperation to keep a hold of each other, fingers dipping into each other’s skin begging the other not to let go. Art was alive and so were they, they would live forever in the impressions they left on each other, for better and for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's all folks!   
> Hey y'all thank you so much for reading and for the kudos and comments! You can catch me on tumblr @ theweakestthing and twitter @ th_weakestthing  
> See ya on the next one! x


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